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Jan 2020
When I think of the drive home
I hardly remember a thing.
Just the time
and the wide open space,
the way my heart ached.

The sky was light that day,
which to me seemed appropriate.
My outsides never matched insides.

See, I remember my insides
a tangle of intestines
a wild thrumming heart that beat
and bruised my insides
my insides
You. Could never let me inside.

Outside we were a fissure.
But meβ€”my insides
soaked in sun, drenched in love,
dry to the bone
and your outsides, Iβ€”inside
a steel safe just beneath
the skin

When I think of the drive home,
I hardly remember a thing.
Written by
egghead  22/F
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