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Confession
we almost lived
didn't we?
the word trapped
black blood beneath the nail
dead
letters
you stopped my voice
out
with your fists
our fits
u & i
dead
letters
my word is a
fine web swaying
on the hinge of a door
with nothing caught
i'm as good as my
word
Bernadette Raffoul-Serravalle is currently working on a poetry manuscript.
Email: Bernadette Raffoul-Serravalle
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