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| I like it that my bed is full of wild cats.
Yawning, indolent among spilled scarves and pillows, claws unpick time. Still, sometimes, mind recalls - how it felt bargaining my shadow self for yours. You, unable now to repress life, are gone. |
| I no longer bleed in memory, sew extra
buttons onto clothes to hide myself or turn a charming glance to frozen stone. I like it that my heart is wild with clouds. Blushed and wearing vivid scarves, rain clings. I dare brave sky unwind me. |