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Early Signs Of—

It was on a night like this when
I stopped trying to find you.

Your body disappeared, and
I was left in a sea

of white linen
and feather-down—

the area around the bed
and the main hallway

like a thousand
corridors. Antelope filled these halls,

their eyes turning into many dark
stratospheres, and in these

I could not find you.
The sheets became something like

a tourniquet around my body,
staying warm for your return:

You, the dark hair, the white gown,
the two black, teary eyes:

staring.

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Published inBlogging & PoemsMy Poems

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