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By misseili, Troy, MI

“I don’t cry, but my heart is bleeding!”
Did you think it was the red-shamed guilt
Burning through the globes of my eyes?
No, it was a quiet victory after the ashes
A congregation of sweat and survival behind my lashes
For your bleeding heart stood testament to my
Utterly empty, tundra-bred, crystalline one—
You had always been dead to me in absentia

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