Inhale.
Quench the thirst for scattered memories on the merciless waves of tearful drops,
refusing to dry out

the DNA of a child, playing hide and seek in a grain of sand,
dancing in a music box, unaware of the time the lid will shut.
Exhale.

Scratch.
A string stung by a jellyfish, irritating the fragility of peace,
reddening the cheeks that used to blush.

One plus one is always two, unless one is maelstrom,
sucking on piles of coupled bones after a wreckage.
Undress.

Accept.
Peel the flaky tissue, radiated on a day of negligence,
obliterate the cells that once were touched.

Submerge into the salt, let it pinch the rawness of the soles.
Crawl, if you must, but learn to walk and then to run. Away.
Forgive.

Forgotten.

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