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Object poem

Moving On The charred powder gathered in a pile of erased photographs. Warm moments ignited to be left cold, still filled my lungs with weight. The black unforgiving dust shifted in the wind. As they took air, remnants seemed to call out my name one last time. The ashes soon faded away. Along with the time we had together.

Object poem

Moving On The charred powder gathered in a pile of erased photographs. Warm moments ignited to be left cold, still filled my lungs with...