D ince this corner
that I love you
touch my skin
hunting for
like
distant skin.
Holdin
I hold
'm talking
your ear came
just writing
your soul reached
to be unnecessary
pretexts
miss you
and my voice
Not my words
on the phone
or anywhere
not everything I planted
in your garden plucking
help
to prevent
that forgetting
in volatile petals
prematurely white ...
Gabriel Cordears
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