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November 18, 2024
"Mes de los Muertos"

Forty pages made of snow

By Abigail George

You're a prophet I've
willed into life. I take
care of you like animals
in a zoo. Your sweater
smells of rain in mid
winter. You make me
think of Paris. Once I
was in love with you.
That was when I was
a laughing girl. Foolish
with windswept hair
when I came into
class almost breathless.
I was very passionate
about the ideas I had.
You still remember her.
You still remember that
girl and that fact haunts
me. Causes me pleasure,
pain, suffering. I'm
somewhat of a nomad now.
Living from city to city.
Coast to coast. The sky
is the limit. You buy my
books. You read them.
You're something
beautiful, you know.
You were great at first.
A boy, then a man.






Article © Abigail George. All rights reserved.
Published on 2016-10-31
Image(s) are public domain.
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