When I miss the good times,I must remember thatNo matter how hard I tried,I could never wash the tasteOf doubt off my lips,That every flavor of your kissHit me with pungent loneliness(Even when the touch of yourHands felt like salvation),And that this "safe space"I worshiped through my poemsWas a product of my imaginationMore than your words or actions.
-Vironika Tugaleva
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