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Ariana Ybarra


Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Was it the guilt? Was it the spirits?
Behind my eyes, the glass is still breaking
From when your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Maybe then was when you saw all that you’d taken—
Slurred words, misplaced steps; things I’ve tried not to inherit.
Your hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
Was it the guilt or was it the spirits?