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Apr 2019
A water bottle perched
on a desk, cluttered
with papers. Old writing,
portfolios of work half-forgotten.
A hand grips the bottle,
untwists the cap,
sips. Right now,
her words
are her only friend.
James Rives
Written by
James Rives  29/M/VA
(29/M/VA)   
  770
   Fawn
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