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NATASHA DENNERSTEIN

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Respire, beat.

 

My lungs fill up; my lungs empty out

but you are gone and I’m still here

and the muscle of my heart pumps my blood around.

 

I’ve been poleaxed in a way that’s so profound

by the dissolution of ‘us’ after so many years,

still my lungs fill up; my lungs empty out.

 

You went off with that bitch, like a filthy hound

and stabbed me in the heart – you were so severe –

yet the muscle of my heart pumped my blood around.

 

That we were lifelong partners, we had no doubt

but I started to grow and it filled you with fear

and my lungs filled up; my lungs emptied out.

 

You sailed me to another bay and set me aground

and left me for dead with no word, no tears,

but the muscle of my heart pumped my blood around.

 

I was a dead woman walking, no substance, just veneer

but I clawed my way back up and I’m still here.

My lungs fill up; my lungs empty out

and the muscle of my heart pumps my blood around.

 

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