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Residue
February 5, 2014
Your touch haunts me
Like the scent of morning dew.
Photographs and poetry
Only bring me back to you.
Fifty fortnights and a day,
I still recall
A lock and key,
The ridges between your knuckles,
And the power in your eyes.
A cloud of stale smoke lingers,
While the taste of a new lover
Temporarily fills the cavern that has become my heart.
© Elana N., Marblehead, MA
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