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Soft like glass.
I am doe-eyed,
stuck between the future and the past.

Smooth, transparent, yet fragile
let me fall
and i promise to shatter
all over me
all over you.

Until we are both red-stained,
blotchy
tear-soaked,
and nauseous.

Soft like glass.
I am running
between the future and the past.
Shift.
And your eyes meet mine,
brown meets brown mixes
double the intensity
We are sweet, innocent
we melt in the heat.
Chocolate.
Shift.
My tongue against yours
a minty fresh communion
You are enticing, inviting
you love me freely
Peace.
Shift.
Our voices seem to overlap
more often than not
And it’s freezing
I’m shivering, i’m alone
Ice.
R
Bug bitten and red
I wrestle with time and
plead with the dead

Give me the answers
for the voices
in my head

Blue and green bruise
i’m shaking with anxiety
before hearing the news

Lead me to a place
of peace
where I can feel free

Scarred, burned, and ******
give my shadowed thoughts
a run for their money.
Simmering down
to an unnoticed lull.
A null state of being,
a dormant volcano.

Though the magma boils
deep, deep, deep inside—
on the surface it is cold.
icy.
ignored.

The fire, it burns solo.
Once sharing the electric eruption
with the charming atmosphere—
letting go,
feeling, for once.

Now,
lays low.
Boiling hot— burning the inside.
internally combusting.
suicide.
I am surrounded by red, beating walls
that cast violent shadows on my skin
and threaten bruises with each beat.

Inside, it is deafening.
I cannot hear myself breathe
though, these gory walls shrink my lungs
and throw me into a dark red sleep.
The T shirt is grand.
A medium muted blue, with delicate speckles of gray—
and white accents.
Its dark red stains dress under my arm
to the side of my breast.
White paint smeared on the bottom right
unevenly.
It fits over my legs when i don’t want to exist.
It’s the costume for the time being
fit for a queen like me
Red-haired artificially
with shiny teeth,
clean knees
with a gap in between.

and my voice will carry
like a songbird in the morning.
Beautifully composed
uttering a peaceful warning

My linens
So pink...
no blue stains to be seen.

And the skin I wear
Porcelain.
airbrushed and screaming
a lulled importance

With my night creams
and appointments
lessons and ointments

I will become the most perfect woman-made sculpture America has ever seen.
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