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Friday 13th

One day you’ll be old

sitting on a porch 

looking at life through cloudy eyes


Yellow and grey,

longing away

towards that empty feeling

that your gut portrays


Screams of children playing

and your victim by your side

caressing you,

loving you.


And you’ll think of that year

that spring,

that ended abruptly

with a crescent moon on the rise.


Secrets you should’ve told,

truths that hanged,

this pain I’m feeling

you’ll get it back.


Ten times worse

under the light of regret,

remorse,

going back and forth

finally finding out

what you really wanted

is now

and even before,

forever lost.

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