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Slipping

She stood still

beneath the steady stream of hot water

inhaling the particles of rising steam

in long, deep breaths.


She cupped her hands,

catching the water in a pool

of tight flesh

a losing game she liked to play.


However close she kept her fingers,

the level of liquid would always drop

elusive, impossible.


Just like you, my love —

no amount of holding can keep you

and yet,

I try, I try, I try.








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