Every poem I've ever written has remnants of you in it's crevices,
Curved along the sides of pages,
whispered in the spaces between words,
I see your face so much in absence,
So write in large fonts to fill up pages but that just make the nothingness in letters larger,
makes it echo,
like a haunting,
like unhealed stab wounds,
like the smell of gasoline,
like remember the face of someone who didn't think you worthy of murdering.
Who would torture you for the rest of your life without looking over their shoulder as they left you.
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