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Grace Bratrud Feb 2019
Crinkle of the plastic, sharp against my skin.
Smooth surfaces, soft center,
how can the sweet be so sad?
Memories of the past haunt the present,
with unsure hands I search for the feeling.
Disappointment rushes in, but
warmth comes with it.
At once satisfied and longing,
on the doorstep of delight and desperation.

— The End —