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Rosaline Moray
Poems
May 2013
Memory Lane
Something presses on my throat.
I think it's my past.
I can't turn round the corner of memory lane
Without seeing
Your face at every window.
My mind feels haunted.
My skin brittle as glass
Too much heat
From embarrassment
Or touch
And I will combust.
Written by
Rosaline Moray
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