No rhymes no embellishments;
Pictures on a metal table
Do I know these people
Do I know that one
Front and center
Red strings
Blue veins
In straight line directions
To each photograph
Of everyone I once
Had
If I sit I will stay
If I wash my face with water
I will go
With a last meal of tiny
Swirls
Of tiny deli sandwiches
I pray to contradict my atheism
For the hope that my flesh
Doesn't too soon melt away
In short, for you;
In short, for me
Because
Every time I see that blanket
I remember how much you loved it
And yearn that
If I wrapped myself in it
I would be your tiny deli sandwich
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