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A curator of whispered truth

By Ella Dunnallen , May 14, 2020

Read time: 1 Min

A curator of whispered truth Image

Your body holds only what it must.
In the afternoon, we are in the swimming pool
and there is only you in the light,
nothing else.

Say my name.Call me friend.Keep me closer.
He was catching talking heads
with his comet face,
what a strange dream.
Yet,your lips flirt in hesitance.
Purgatory.
God holding a torch to your eyes.
A stranger
Gentle and vacant for the taking.
I do not know what to say.
All of this is empty.
Tangible wishes baseless words… 

We depart for three weeks   
for me to tell you,
in however many ways I must,
Please make me your home.

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