...was the question on the cusp of my dreaming mind as i woke from the last of it this morning just now. not i certainly not. the graying threads on the skull, demurs. the ache on a molar's root, disabuses. itching where there should not be, unabides. the pressured ringing in the ears, tempers. the poignant forgetting of beloved words, reveals. not her [ paragraph text here ]
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