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Sunday, 3 May 2015

Bones ...

I hate the bones in your closet
The way they rattle and Shake and scream
The way you turn back each time, everytime 
To put them back in proper places
The bones of dark twisted pasts
Unearthed and unnerved 
Names and fragrance of someone too far gone 
Too close
You still echo his names sometimes 
Entangled with mine
As if we grew from the same seed
One to entwine 
One to sublime. 

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