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Autumn’s Lament MAG
He said, “I’ll straighten you out, kid.”
trees that violently shake you
like the first chill of the autumn months
She still wore sundresses on the windiest days;
a shattered stained-glass window,
pieced together by the dropping temperature
His lungs were locked in her dresser,
unable to breathe when she was gone
logic so strong it replaced fists cracking bones
She said the green sheet was too pale;
it would not suffice as a curtain
He said that just because his shoes were off
did not mean he was planning on staying
some things just cannot,
some things just cannot be fixed.
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