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Wednesday, April 06, 2016


Did you become real
on a day of double Percocets,
when every slip into gentle sleep
brought you back to me?

God help me if I’m
just building another disaster
because, if and when this one crumbles,
there may be nothing left

Something must be precious
enough to actually exist in
the way that one would dream it –
something real enough to survive

As precious as that dream,
the one that
no one could ever steal away.

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