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Claudia Vulliamy

A night refracted through a broken glass.

We thought that in your room we were

Ready to cup the world in our palms,

Spiralling deep into a multicoloured dark. 

All the barbed layers fell onto the carpet 

And we laughed

At how I couldn’t love your core before.

But now, a tinge of light. First unnoticed, 

Disguised as a conclusion of our own accord.

First a gradient on the wall.

Shards quiver and are pulled back into place

To form a glass. Layers wrap back around us

And the cold sets in. Cores are stored

For another secret time.

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