Fill the glass with shards of the past.
Do not drink, but learn to build from the past.
Memory is antidote to love, when the heart recalls.
Do not remember, resist with words killed in the past.
The body is a deserted battlefield. Trading victory for identity.
Do not fight. Not with weapons unskilled in the past.
Your photograph has started to bleed. Drip into old calendars.
Do not wipe it, because it has spilled into the past.
Lips are sour. Wine turns to water. Water returns to tide.
Don’t drown in it. Rise, she demands, with your unfulfilled past.
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