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March

Over the cliff of our bed I am a waterfall. My backbone curls into rainbows, my fingers are little pink salmon mating in the spray. Your shoulder is my shoal onto which I am unsheathing black-sand claws; a lazy gull stretching the winter from her wings.
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Written by
shayla-v-1
Published
Jul 2, 2012
Lines·Words
7·46
Notes

[03-22-12]

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