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Poetry and Stuff

Grief:Peripheral

The flicker of bluish light
filters out what is missing;
there is only one set
of boots by the door,

an apple sits on the counter
uneaten,
and even if you don’t
make a sound,

the notch in your heart
is nothing personal.
____________________________

Yeah, I know I said no poetry, but I lied.

From The Culling, because what girl doesn't dream of
 owning a library with a ladder? 

I just posted the last chapter of The Bond, which I'm not 100% satisfied with.  It is the end of this novella, but the story continues in the next book of the series.  One of my biggest problems is I don't have a title for the next novella.  The working title was "The Break," which doesn't really work.  If you have an idea or two, throw 'em in the comments.  

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