There is something of you I will not let go of. Honestly I don’t even know how I would go about doing so.

I am perplexed
because I want to do right by you
and console you in the quiet that has settled like dust on us,
But I have shaken and walked on.

I don’t want to leave you behind.

I carry you like a wounded bird because I have wrapped your wing gingerly before,
I carry us broken and hollowed out like a coconut with no milk
Because I may not thirst

But there will vividly and commitedly
be the memory of when I drank

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