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the day you died

I was young
too young to lose you
and my sister and I
we shared a room
something woke me
something quiet and concrete
my mom presses end on the phone
her cry climbing up the staircase
I have written this poem before
something keeps me writing
something keeps you alive in my words
keeps me jotting notes
on my skin about you and
this day that makes me crawl
back into bed
my ten year old self again
blanket covering my head
as if the darkness would erase
this current reality

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