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Something that doesn't die can't be beautiful
How do I explain
there is no tenderness
in the sum of shared memories
I know something that doesn't die
can't be beautiful
enthralled by permanence
all the did and didn't happen
building absence out of the still small voice
only begets strangers
no two breaths are the same
when the voice is intrusive silence
I want to erase desire
memories do not care
where breath is self-consuming
how do you carry my breath under your tongue still
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