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Amanda Small
Poems
Jan 2014
June - July
Your hands
felt like the pages of a well-read library book
torn at the edges by someone who didn't appreciate the story you told
using all the big words I knew,
I tried to fill in your missing paragraphs
but you were never that hard to read.
tracing my fingers along your spine
I find her name
breaking up your sentences like a misplaced comma.
You will never love me.
period.
Written by
Amanda Small
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Abbigail
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