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The beach house

In the first visit
the moon was waxing
we watched from the dark
water lapping at my knees

In the second visit
the moon was almost full
the last breath, the thin edge
of anticipation

In the third visit
the moon was full
and you stole the words from my mouth
and I embarrassed myself with them

In the fourth visit
the moon was waning
a pale reflection broken by waves

In the fifth visit
the sky was empty
the sea saw only black.

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About writehandedgirl

Sarah is a writer who is passionate about social justice, feminism, politics, and cats. She is a columnist and poet and currently lives in Nelson. You can follow Sarah on Twitter (@writehandedgirl) or read more of her writing at writehanded.org

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