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"Pastel"
I scratch out the pastels on the canvas.
I hear your angelic voice in front of my frantic scrabbling.
Every idea of you fitting itself onto one space.
There's too much, overlapping and becoming unintelligible.
It's only for us, only for you, it's still not enough.
I don't know when you left, but you're right in front of my eyes.
My trembling hands grasp at your face.
I can feel your lips on mine.
I smear a pastel on your face.
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