the victim
the seduction of hands
like an icy breeze
cold
blowing the water
against my face
breaking all i believed in
turning it to floods
washing it away
i have the image of water
still
raging
through my head
i have the sense of memory
touching me
cold
why now
why me
how can i
change it
to make it undone
can i forget
can i wash it away
so cold
H Schirmer
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