if emblems
of the in-between
surface from the cracks
of your charred linoleum
artifacts of the last time
you were certain you’d be gone by morning
occasionally afraid
to communicate in scribbles
scan through pages
of a tragedy
with a highlighter pen
and emboldened words
magnify
the blundered sequences
scars across your facade
and if humanity is just the account
of history in a continuum
then we need not worry
about finishing last
now
or in the end
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