“I like to imagine
love can pull your essence like red thread
through the cold needle of my life now
without you.” – Rachel Jamison Webster
There’s a fickle thread
that connects us
It’s crimson
just like our hearts
like these strokes that
mar our skin
It brandishes us
Patches on
unpleasant memories
misconstrued amour
It hurts us
these words
they taunt us
torment you and I, darling
Yet I always come back
Éloa 
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