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Elisa Cinelli
Poems
Jul 2020
memories
I wanted to climb into the warm bed
but I saw dirt on the covers
and stick insects scattered
when I turned them back
he told me, itβs fine
you canβt go home again
but the nights you held me
burn like wildfire
and I am the hiss of steam that escapes
when a blackened branch breaks and
crashes into cool water
Written by
Elisa Cinelli
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Fawn
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