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poem: after a long cold walk

(126 words) 13 Feb. 2018

By S.R.A. Markin

on my back, face soaked in tears
the carpet burns, i linger in fear
for i think the worst,
not hearing from you.

your features embedded
my forehead pulsates
lights dimmed, draft breezes in
for what i would give, to relive it
to burn through hell,
just to be warm again.

but instead, this sharp chill
extinguished excitement
choking on stale desires
my humour, my smile
dead, a damaged clock
left with no time.

we use to write, every night
conceptions of dreams,
that we would share
and close our eyes
we would say,
i will meet you there
and in between
there was nothing
but you and me.

in bed,
racing thoughts
staggering images
a paling past
and a ringing
in my fucking



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