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Shooing Flies
In a labyrinth, jungle of anyone else,
through buzzing clouds and mists of time,
You came. My lungs dried like salt
in a wound.
Chasing glimpses of death i was led
back to last Christmas, last
autumn rain, last summer drive and
ages before that before me
why am i dizzy? where did i
start from? when did i
last see you?
fog swirls around me view
goes black i wake up in my
bedroom with a headache the
flies don’t help and i
can't move i'm melti
ng damn that'll never
come out of the carpet i
can't see the photos any
more but your face is still
in my head the salt festers now
i know why the flies have
been screaming around me they're
hungry
![](http://cdn.teenink.com/art/June09/Clovers72.jpg)
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As I happened upon my ex-partner's social media account, this poem came all at once and begged to be recorded. Though we hadn't talked in nearly a year, I found myself obsessed with the pleasant memories and (mostly) addicted to the pain. Here, I meant to capture that very personal post-relationship stage; the lingering emotions that become part of one's personal development and can never be completely resolved or forgotten.