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 Nov 2013 J R
Megan Grace
Ryan
 Nov 2013 J R
Megan Grace
But we are
simply
not made
to only see
each other
when we
wake every
morning.
I've lost
you.
I've been scared to write this.
 Nov 2013 J R
Samantha
Wildberries bleed in between two fists
I clench, bury fingers deep in fleshy fruit
Oozing out and spinning with seeds to the floor below
Licking my forearms, wrists, fingertips
Trying to taste at that sweet ambrosia
To find but bittersweet
Too-ripe-raspberry instead
Everything is an analogy, again, again!
The same old used up ****, no innovation
And I grab, I rip the seams,
(rather sutures; sewn, resewn)
And pick my brain looking for
Any small bits of copper or computer chip parts
That mayhap I might fashion a real beast
To roar and scream, squish up berries and words
And find something honey'd dripping down
Instead of that sickening *******
Sour of spoiled milk and thought
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