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Jan 2014
Eyelids pinned back,
Lack of sleep I let
my arms keep track
Of the time.
As skin cells fold over,
I leave some on your collar
They used to be dashes, slashes,
Eye lashes and spicy mashes.
I watch you turn around
With an epiphany found:
There is no life span to your well wishes,

We are all just dead fishes.
Ann Beaver
Written by
Ann Beaver
491
 
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