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Feb 13
I rinse my face, cold with no soap, not
waiting for water to warm.
The droplets race in uniform rivulets,
stroking, lukewarm, unrivaled
down my cheeks - a careful tease,
without competition. I'm not sure
if it's hurt or an aching hunger, or just
a longing for what I never had, a tainting anger.
anna
Written by
anna  16/F/Scotland
(16/F/Scotland)   
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