Category: Poetry
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float inside you, fondle your hear
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the sand squishes up between my toes like brown sugar
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I remember that Halmoni was the first person to call me a bitch.
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It is the aperture that we cling to, an exit that implies a return.
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i will peel the orange for you and in the moment you hold the piece in your mouth
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i wish to be burnt alive by what i love.
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you laugh about buying duck eggs from the farmstand
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Billions of snakes deep throating themselves into oblivion.
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Mountains can block clouds, peak so high rain can’t climb them
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fat red flowers, tomato toast
