home space

in the spaces between these same walls,

rest the faces of his memories,

whole, unmarred—neither time nor change leaving them scathed,

unlike the rippling reflection on water’s surface,

these memories freely self-reign,

entering, leaving, staying, pervading beneath the skin—not something akin,

but the authentic,

the true;

ready to make the handshake when he is coerced to desire,

greeting so plainly,

smiling so sharply,

but never wondering if they are unwelcome

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