Matt Borczon

Hold on       for Dana


hold me

and squeeze

the ash

out of

my heart

the sand

from inside

my skin

lean in

and sing

into my

ear until

the ghosts



run your

cool hands

over my

118 degree


and if

I start

to cry

all the

tears I

have will

you build

a boat

out of

your memories

of our

life before

the war


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