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Tributaries
May 21, 2015
And it was gone
The crunch of gravel under wheels
Bodies intertwined
Thin rope becoming too tangled
Spring smells inhaled like drugs
But it was gone
Replaced by crimson rivers
Traced into tinted porcelin
Hidden by cotten sweaters
Then they were gone
Finding new eyes
Stronger strings never becoming tangled
Rivers dry up
And they're replaced by stronger cells
© Kevan B., Beaverton, OR
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