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Familiar Eyes

Waiting for a train, in the middle of a moonless night. she let her grief out with the smoke rings of her cigarette. drunk to the hope of a better time, holding back her tears at the border of her weathered eyes, staring at her withered past. when they turned to look at me, the familiarity of the brokenness is abode the reflection in the mirror of my own.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2015




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Book: Shattered Sighs