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Wounded words
May 10, 2022
The thought of your presence
as the rain begins to catch flame
and the waters begin to rise
the moon begins to fade away
slowly
I begin
to suffocate
in my own ache.
I reach out to you.
but you leave me to drown
in the sea
of my own misery.
I don't want to let the water in,
but holding on is conceding me an unbearing pain.
© Anonymous
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