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Where Does Doubt Dwell?
Not between heaven and earth,
but between “yes” and “why.”
Not in the mouths of philosophers,
but in the wounds of those who had no time to read.
Doubt is a woman with bound hands
who waits for me night after night
to say I no longer love her.
But I come,
and keep silent,
and lie down beside her
like beside a mother who forgot to give birth to me.
Copyright ©
Florin Lacatus
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