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Jun 2013
Instead of a bell jar
I am trapped inside an hourglass
Sand scrapes my skin
unsurfacing memories of
your voice, your eyes,
faded images of me looking into them

Dust rains on me incessantly
eroding the shield I worked so hard to maintain
Drops of you grasp tightly onto me,
your nails are grappling hooks in my skin

The past swells with each dropping grain,
becoming heavier, until
your pulling weight unravels me.
Emma
Written by
Emma
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