“No, no, there’s nothing left here.”
My arms, I crossed them.
I’d been cheated.
I was ready for spite, salted spite.
“No, no, there’s nothing left here.”
In the chest: deflation.
I’d been stirring the brew into
The early hours, when you might as well
Be a dream.
“No, no, there’s nothing left here.”
I span, saw, and knew it to be true —
There was nothing left here.
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