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  Dec 2016 Tori Mae
Kacie
When all is certainly lost,
I remember that there is at least one person out in this world,
whose soul was made from the same ingredients as mine.
And you remind me of this every day that I’m sad,
when you offer me a piece of yours,
to mend mine that which is broken.
This poem is dedicated to my best friend, Rachel. I don't know who I would have become without her.
The poet's manuscripts
are preserved for posterity
with odd bits of his personal things
historical than literary
immortalized with passage of time
as his timeless work
perfumed in air conditioned staleness
letters sent and received
the mortal mind sending poems
desiring to be published
and outside on a falling winter day
in a dog's head
the crumbling desire
for a crumb of bread.

— The End —