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Apr 4
The  grit  of  my  teeth  seeps
  Sand,  grinding  under  my
    ­Fingernails and weaving
       It’s  way  into  my  hair
         Just like your hands
            Used to do. What
              Has time done
                  To us, my
                  Who am I
            Without you but
         Negative space that
       Fills no void, only static
     Chaos  all  too  divine  to
   Be confined in glass? Turn
  Me over and let me run out,
My pieces crumbling like sand.
Written by
Courtney  23/F
     OpenWorldView and ---
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