the past
returns to me
from my bed
to my head
the raspy voices of
all my lovers
meld together
forming
a maddening cacophony
of grunts
snorts
sighs
cries
inhales
exhales
chuckles
giggles
the nuances of
paramours before
still discernable
despite the flood
of whispered lies
and half-truths
that characterize
every one
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