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Mar 2019 · 143
Stitches
She hid a hole
stitched scars etch arms
ribs peek through skin
green eyes sunken in
It caught her
years of tailoring herself
she sewed, cut
blinking silver,
shooting stars can not save.
gold hair in wind.
"Let go, begin again."
whispered under midnight clouds
death laces fingers with hers

— The End —