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Replying to a comment on:
Host (Free verse) by Imperfections You're a bandage
to my wounds.
I'm infected
while your gone
with their dirty looks
and slimey smirks
festering
under my skin.
You're an antipyretic
to the fever
which now, breaking
with your return,
leaves me immune,
no longer host
to the virus
seeping out.
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