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Jul 2020
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, it’s fine

you can’t 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
90
   Fawn
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