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Why is it
my unkindnesses
are so poignantly remembered
while the interiors of
remembered kindnesses
remain so emotionally empty?
My childish bullet
entering the chest of the crow
The shocked realization of my lie
pooling in the eyes of my beloved
I remember the cry,
then the stillness,
black wings taking her away,
seeking a past she would never find,
deeper in the heart of the forest. |
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