The little pieces of you
I gather
like shards of glass
which chafes my skin.
Paste them with the glue
of my tears.
Scraped off the walls of my day.
From the billowing sheets of night,
I pull out the strands
with smells of you
which I try to deny;
Weave in some of mine.
The scents of your body on my tongue
Like the wine of your praises
I'd drunk.
I scrimp and scrounge,
Scream out my lungs
But my voice bounces back
and my skin is burnt.
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