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#I'm fine ๐Ÿ‘ good day today actually I made creamy pasta and it was alright
sleepvines ยท 6 months
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do they know?
do they know that I killed their daughter,
that I pantomime their son,
that I take what I can and scrape what use,
I can manage to cut off and run.
do they know?
that the color's leeched out from the pictures,
the family photo album is done.
my memories are as faded and pockmarked,
as a picture book left in the sun.
do they know?
that I have to echo to converse,
"I love you"s will never be right.
I'm a mirror's faulty dream of a living being,
but they'll never know by the sight.
do they know?
I've already checked out of the motel,
with it's cigarette taste and black mould,
and though I speak, I am already long and far gone,
and the sheets of that bed are stone cold.
...It makes me think, you know?
that to them, I'm a ghost.
every call is a seance, every text is a graveside letter,
a pull into the dark aether, a hope and a prayer,
a request to turn time back and stare
into the void in which I was once there,
a summoning, an illusion, a hallucination of their own making,
to rouse a dour smear that they've forsaken,
Do
They
Know?
that once they "raised" a child,
and now they've raised a wraith.
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