Dwindling Scenes by Dana Li

Where does history go—yours
and mine? Those days when we tangled
limbs and lives.  No one told me, love
is a bleeding dream: as we recklessly
whispered forever into the night.
Where does history go—with
your one-line jokes and sideway smiles?
I’m afraid I’ll find it, in this crowded room,
fading from your coffee-stained eyes.




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