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Feb 1
the face behind the door is hers
and i now what it feels like to witness daylight breaking into an abandoned house.
for a moment, she makes me acknowledge the days in the darkness,
those dog days that gnawed away at my insides;
new forms of symbiosis upchucking scars and scarlet.
for a moment i want to nurse my open wounds,
lick them tenderly and have the tips of her hair delicately brush my forehead;
cooing words and a cool hand against my flushed cheeks.
i don't know how to respond to loss other than surrendering more of myself.
Written by
Sid  18/F/Caribbean
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