Yearn

15,00

She clang to the lilac velvet coverlet that meandered over her aching skin.  Jorge had taken everything from her and left her with nothing but a devastating yearning.  “Let me yearn,” she groaned in the bleak silence, “For as long as I yearn, I feel alive.”

-“Waiting in trainstations in Arkansas”, Zacharia Waterman, 1986

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