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Rated: E · Poetry · Emotional · #1094078
My childhood game, gone awry. There's no love in counting.
He covered his eyes with sticky hands
- counted to 25 -
it wasn't enough but I found a place to
hide.
A lifetime later I was found
humming
- lying on the ground
elbows on the grass
chin on my hands
eyes closed -
He didn't expect it to be this way.

Said he missed me for so long
- so long -
but never came to look for me

He made a grave for me
brought me there
and let me filter through the ground.
I pulled out bones of birds
he thought I had wings
wings that I could - fly away -
with.

And maybe I did
I never looked to make sure
but (he) could have

Could have searched the world over,
found me,
and said
"It's my turn to hide."

I'll find him
under a headstone.
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