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More like war buddies
We break in the same places

We close our eyes and
Smile at the same smells
Coffee, grain and fingernail polish

Holding hands through hell
We were trauma bonded
We did our hiding in closets instead of trenches

In case of questions
We took care to make our stories consistent
Lies crocheted with angry truths

Years later, as we look back
Denial and embrace combine
We are still pulling each other up by the boot straps

Published inPoetry

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