The Taste of Severed Things: A Love Poem
Dusk is a girl
pine needle bed
Not wanting, always
to be public
This is us, in ruins
parts that have survived
Surely mass has intention
filled with small
betrayals
Some underestimate
how erotic it is
to be understood
sometimes a thing must be created
26 reasons to put on your boots
hours of
labor and intention
Conspiracy of language:
Outrage, Blodstain, Chagrin
Sanguine
Bridesmaid
A girl becomes a comma
like that
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