Photo by mayte wisniewski on Unsplash
Sitting, with only the world,
vibrating that she's alone,
Like a million keys, pressed so often,
only to become personless and cold,
they get up and leave,
warmth fades fast,
she dreams of two becoming three,
or four,
Of what she's lost,
and
how
many
times.
About the Creator
Gambit
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