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poem

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the milk
went sour
and love
did too
the smell
of it
like death
because it
is death
this kitchen
is cold
even with
the sun
shining in
maybe I
should move
and forget
this place
go where
the rain
never stops
and love
never starts
and cows
are sacred

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Written by burrben

November 21, 2012 at 5:50 am

Posted in poetry

Tagged with , ,

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