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in my most comforting presence.

A Sunday roast,

beer I hadn’t asked for,

Plans I didn’t make.

 

within vague familiarity,

I feel at ease.

 

It shouldn’t console me.

Shouldn’t be a place of solace.

Shouldn’t kindle nostalgia.

 

It should be perturbing.

Should be a thing of fear.

Should incite reminiscence.

 

But it makes me want to stay—

 

makes me comfortable

with the discomfort.

— A.M. Sención

02.2025

This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. 

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"I have conversed with the spiritual sun. I saw him on Primrose Hill." -B

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"He knows not / something to compare."

02.2025

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"Dismay— / and truly being alone."

02.2025

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