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Jan 21
Pastel hoops swirl, a hollowed refrain,
Milk pools cold, a quiet stain.
Laughter lingers, ghosts in the air,
I reach, but they’re no longer there.

Black wings flicker, hunger’s sigh,
But control whispers: "Let it die."
At this table, time unfolds,
An empty heart, a story untold.
Emma
Written by
Emma  F/Malta
(F/Malta)   
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