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You look through me
as if I were a mirage
because you snuck a peek
at
swollen mysteries
I keep locked
in secret drawers
My tears shift like sand
behind hourglass eyes
But
the salts of time
mean very little
to a blind voyeur
There was much
more to see,
but you missed
the other drawers
in your haste
to keep your bones
c) Chris Butler 2006
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