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Jan 2020
softly fall the leaves
like a twin-sided blade
from my grasp to the ivory
and towers of the sun
break and heal
across the windowsill
to meet the taut, ashen skin
on the hands
that released me

what is left of death
to behold but the ending?
kevin hamilton
Written by
kevin hamilton  29/M/toronto
(29/M/toronto)   
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