my skin glows beneath blacklight memories,
trinkets,
and a fog
that penetrates through and through,
leaving an old spot on my faded sheets---
time always leaks in circles.
it seems obscene,
the way moving forward takes me back
to familiar hallways I should have loved a bit more,
and letters I fought to keep shut, but wanted to open more than anything.
i thought i let go
(i swore i let go)
Author notes
no where near done
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