Donde pongo el ojo pongo la bala.
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clawing at the surface
desirous of a scar
that will somehow prove
it really happened, it’s not in your head
blade etching out a name
letter by
— halting prematurely
when your mind goes blank
monochromatic images; fantasies?
“almost” and “could have been”
blinding brightness, deafening silence
smug, mocking witnesses
of that unspoken goodbye

heavy, so heavy
so heavy, heart