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by Arantxa Hernandez

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You say I love you
over and over again
as if those words were a precious stone
that will fade into the dirt,
return to its raw estate
if you forget to say them every couple of minutes.
You try to hold on to them with every repetition
each one is more truthful,
twist of tongues and naked cadence.
And still
It is not enough to describe the heart wrecking
fullness in your chest;
the disease
that spread with both having you
and seeing you
through a mirrored lens.

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