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everything but what we’re thinking. You never taught me how to love. You never loved me enough. I tug at the loose string hanging from my blue carpet, a piece of home passed down from her, and pull the phone away from my face to check the time elapsed, hoping it’s been long enough to sit in silence, the both of us waiting for the other to speak, the both of us knowing what the other will say.

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After the Pause: Fall 2017  

The Fall 2017 issue is once again brimming with over 25 fantastic international contributions of poetry, flash fiction, visual poetry, and a...

After the Pause: Fall 2017  

The Fall 2017 issue is once again brimming with over 25 fantastic international contributions of poetry, flash fiction, visual poetry, and a...

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