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Refried dreams

Refried Dreams

He left me a cold plate of refried dreams
He left me.

His knuckles no longer crack in sudden dreary while I sleep.

The shape of the moon is no longer the same
And I melt at the sound of upside-down guitar strings.

The dinner table holds candles and dust
And there lies a plate of refried dreams

Muddled and alone,  no longer bright
My spice gets lost in the beans and rice of your life.

EV

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