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untitled 3
hold out your waiting hand
and whisper on the brink of
aftermath
caress my hair and cradle my
face between fingers
splattered
in prismatic colors
did you feed me the noise?
is that you solemn single voice
that I hear crying?
do you feel triumphant?
you scream like you’re in pain
a trickle of sound becomes a broken dam
robbing my white noise
I open mouth to sing
but I only
writhe upon the floor.
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