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 Mar 2014 Clara Oswin
Xyns
Does it taste sour?
The bitter hand of reality
It used to feed you
But you bit it

Does it feel painful?
The sharp blade of death
It used to protect you
But you abused it

I hope it's disgusting
I hope it stings
Because the truth
Is relentless
 Mar 2014 Clara Oswin
Lana
I ooze
      from kitchen
                  to desk
                       to couch
                             leaving
                                    a trail of words
                                                  behind me
:) for all of my fellow poetry slugs...
 Mar 2014 Clara Oswin
Sydney
Hair a spiders web
tangled gently on her sloping neck
her fingers red, and soft, and swollen,
childlike;
as if her fingers quested through frozen snow.
forehead high, and wide, and arched
her cheeks so blushed, her eyes so dark.
hips soft and round,
curved into a shy hunch
of shoulders marked by freckles which drifted
from nose to rib.
her stomach warm, her legs sharp
she graces, stumbling through my confined heart.
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