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 Jan 2015 Devon Webb
grace
its the kind of 3 pm that holds blood stained walls gently beneath purple skinned fingers
plastic wrap skin tries to conceal wire veins but i am hot coffee that is two thirds ***** i am razors too small too dull
you are sunlight but it is overcast, my dear, and i still slather on sun block
nail polish on the tip of my tongue, fresh snow between toes of bare feet
thoughts plagued with death and flesh and bones and blood, blood, blood
beneath my fingernails and creased in my knuckles and pumping through this fragile body
vultures and insects will clean your bones, my dear
drip birthday candle wax along my eyebrows, metal spoons clink against teeth
an eighteen wheeler going 72 miles per hour down the highway
stopped by me, would it even stop?
 Jan 2015 Devon Webb
timi adebisi
Exploding into the air
With sporadic beauty
Sparkling lights everywhere,
so many to gaze at
I am struck once again
like every unfolding eve
By the magnificient beauty
of this gigantic display of awe
But this time around
it's not in the air
Utterly silent, yet gripping
Darkness is still shattered
and the beauty more glorious.
It is right before my eyes
as I behold yours.
I see another kind of fireworks
.........My fireworks.
Je t'aime beaucoup Magda
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