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Your heart beats-- nothing
Because now all you are is unlisted mail

Flooding junk drawers in spare rooms
No one can give that homey touch to 

Your fingers leave the door knobs
cold and greasy. And you wonder

why the uninsulated walls cave in
leaving you cradled. Your head

peeks through the crevice of your arm
And the thought of a bullet to the brain

sounds like a seventy degree day
during an arizona summer. And now

mirrors surround you until it hurts.
So you slither across the cheval glass

In case someone is there

And when nothing is heard                                                  
You try to break it

In case she's there






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