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when i wash my face

i empty myself for sleep;

the words i’ve learnt

the expressions ive resgistered

and visions of unattainable future

are drained down the sink.

 

when i dry my face

-i take my time-

i trace every furrow

down its pore

i accept the loss with regret and tears.

 

when my face rests on the pillow

it is not empty

but full

making its journey faster.