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Wednesday, Mar. 10, 2004 @ 10:44 p.m.

My knees creak when I walk,
The rubbing of brittle yellow
tells
Stories of too many
Nights with legs
Tucked under.

My fingers housed glass;
thin white lines
that never fade
encrypt my hands with
childhood play.

Swelling, swollen,
pulsed with good
intentions
and �knowing better.�
My mind aches
with a stranger-
She always appears
in silver, solid pools.
I swear I knew her
before.

cause / effect