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Sep 2010
the bedslats creak to the beat of
my heart and
with no other heart to beat against
mine, its sound i loathe-- not
that i'm unglad of its existence; for
each beat calls (it silent, yells

seeking its other) to be met to be
shared-- for none seem to hear it
but my tired and distractable ear
only
in its silence ever will i rest
inspired by the style of e.e. cummings.
Written by
jana f.
599
 
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