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Sixteen and a Half

At night, when it feels like you’re the
only one awake
in the entire world,
a different kind of quiet settles
in the folds of your sheets.
You move in whispers.
You breathe, and the room breathes
back. You break flash-lit stillness
with the sound of a page curling,
with words still echoing
in your head, in your
room. You wonder how old
your soul is.





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