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I see her in the background
of my reflection her body blue and bloated seaweed tangled in her limbs when she tries to speak black smoke billows out she can't be more then 16 a cherub face that only knew blushing cheeks before her untimely demise it was the 60s she was riding her bike back from the corner store in some small town where things like this aren't supposed to happen in her bike basket she had candy and a handful daisies to press into heavy books when she got home he lured her with a white kitten named snow he was a member of the church she went to he ate her mother's potato salad at the Sunday potluck every time she rode her bike past his house he watched her from the window watched her long lean legs pumping the peddles he kept her short white shorts and a lock of her brown hair long after she was gone her last breath still warmed his hands when she is near I hear the faucets dripping I see her last memory and I struggle to breathe his hands smelled like walnuts he tied heavy rocks to her ankles she watched herself disappear her screams are black clouds I sort through them so she can be heard I die with her again and again until she doesn't go back there anymore now she stays here my dear dark angel now that your story has been told you are free
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AuthorMichelle Tinklepaugh Archives
April 2023
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