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Memories
May 29, 2018
He had eyes bright like the night stars
Now a distant memory.
Impaling my stomach with a sword.
His hands
Dirty and sticky from the work he did.
“Work” as in playing with dirty things like a child.
These memories vanish like the air,
Disappearing through the vent
Into the unknown.
© Alyssa G., Charlotte, NC
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