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Oranges, the sweet smell of oranges is what I notice in
the dark. I smell
It's all there in her eyes, that sadness. She thinks she'll never find that one who can wipe away that feeling. Her hopefulness is her sanctitude. It's the one place she feels at home. Her home is so far away from her, she doesn't know where it is right now, she can't even find it to save herself.
Never really had a home, a rapid sucession of faces pass her by. None really lasting long enough to learn the complexities of her. She feels like no one wants to share the shadows with her. She shares so many shadows, but is tolerated only when she brings a candle. She rejects her own shadows. Ignoring herself to the point of carelessness. She forgets, washing everything away in her mind; lets it all escape her. She didn't write for fear she would remember herself.
Making sense has never been
She sees each side and feels nothing, nothing but sadness.
I lie beside her