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Ghosts of Past

Awake from slumber,
still in a trance,
my being liquidating
into droplets,
one after the other
dripping like the rain
from the heavens.

Black demons,
ugly demons,
ugly memories
from the past
that I revisit 
tirelessly again.
History repeats itself
and I break apart,

What do I do with
this lump in my throat
this lovesickness
this homesickness
this congestion
in my chest?

Touch is such
a lovely feeling
but what if 
it had an evil side
an overlooked
premonition?

Love is such
a homely feeling
but what if 
I told you today
that it can too,
set fire to all things
you've called home-
people, places, and time?






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