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Crests and Troughs

Rupam Dutta

She said it was color - more than light

The way we see ourselves, each other

Shadows and corners

Angles mired in perspective

As our choices unravel

She chafed against the friction of time

the soft music of when

the stilted rhythm of how

and all the missing lyrics

we had accumulated

during the hysteria of living

Silly things, she said

Dreams with no horizon

But every such silly thing

Was a deep abyss

That wove its needle into her wounds

Every wound too small to grieve

Too persistent to dismiss

Denial is easier

Or is it?


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