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intuition

i

I tried to make a home out of you

But doors lead to trap doors,

a stairway leads to nothing.

Unknown women wander the hallways at night.

Where do you go when you go quiet?

You remind me of my father

once a magician

able to exist in two places at once.

In the tradition of men in my blood, you come home at 3 a.m. and lie to me.

What are you hiding?

The past and the future merge to meet us here.

What luck.

What a fucking curse.

About the author

desfilles

I got fire in my brain. In my heart and veins. In between my legs.
(And now I'm back to writing.)

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By desfilles

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