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Dec 2024
The waves whispered, soft and endless, to her ear,

Their rhythm not unlike his voice—low, insincere.

She let them take her, a shadow slipping from the shore,

No rage, no plea; she was past the point of more.

Drowning felt gentle—his absence had hurt far more.
What he did to me.
Nemusa
Written by
Nemusa  F/Purgatorju
(F/Purgatorju)   
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