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Where the fuck are you?

A hazy kind of cold,

like freezing smoke

chilling everyone with

a pleasant cooling taste.

 

Going to sleep

to never wake.

And down then.

A single magnolia bloom falls.

 

Life-shaped spaces

left lifeless.

A stopped carousel.

Arrivals unarrived.

 

Angry words vibrate

in a father’s pocket.

The last mistrust

despite unbroken vows.

Published inPoemsWriting

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