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No door
No bed
Not my words
       But a book on the shelf
Not right, but a clock
Leaned against the wall
Two bodies
              Few words
            Few said
Night out
           Lights flickering
Something bleeds of blood
Not by choice
            Survived
Still flames
       scarred sternum
Trust
    A gift, a curse
For better, certainly for worse
Time heals all
                      But wounds
No door
No bed
Not my words
              But a book on the shelf