day 7 poetry:

her memory
ripped --
her like gale
to a blade of grass.

she swam in despair
but it was too much
for her. it pulled her
down like the tentacles
of an octopus.
she was dro--
drowning.

the thunderstorm
hit her -- a face
full of glass...
more like the tip of
a blade to a shaking wrist.

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prose (here)