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Starving

Who do you think you are coming into this place? This place occupied by me, only. The door was closed. “But you left it unlocked,” you said. You, with your damaged spirit, threadbare and see-through. So open. So goddamned open. Laying your soul bare. Lifting it high into the air and letting it fall to the ground with all four corners of your heart showing. Not one corner tucked. And mine. Cracked. An open fissure mending slowly on it’s own. Your words, a cool, soothing salve. We suffered indifference. Like sand clinging to our skin we gently brushed it from each other. We were hungry. So very hungry.

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