Two-hundred and Sixty-nine: strike

black anemone hair
post-traumatic goggles fogging
sharp mouth not shouting
hide harp-playing heart
loneliness is an art
drip drip drip
love is a pollock
wait, they sing
don’t fade
blank lines tighten the night
suspend winter thighs
strike matches
thin and out
kiss mirrors
tease like a feather
shiver like an orgasm

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Alexia

I drink, I laugh, I smoke, I write.

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