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I think this as I step out of the downpour into my body, a trough where this yearning collects and solidifies into something like a plea, an Eloi, Eloi stuck in my esophagus and oh, my god, I miss the ire, the intimate, elegant stun of you, the radiant obscurity of light through fog, and the rainbows scattered on our cabinets by the sun on shattered glass.
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