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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1349108
short poem
my headeache
feeds on the stabbing flashes
of last night

I remember
like a puzzle with many pieces
missing

conversations
and staggering steps and laughter
mixed drinks and drags of smoke
a smelly couch to sleep on
the sun rising

somwhere
in the middle of everything
we cried

you held me
on the top of the stairs when the lights
died



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