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Jul 2020
Your figure appears
only after rainfall
desecrating the plot
that protects my remains.
The garden sacrifices itself
welcoming the footprints
leading to the home you built
in the shadow of my doubts.
As the moisture leaves,
so does your image,
a mirage with scarred hands
begging to be held,
fading into the horizon.
Written in July of 2020
HearseTraffic
Written by
HearseTraffic  26/M
(26/M)   
98
 
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