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Jessie Anna H
Poems
Sep 2011
Just Call Me Icarus
Crème brûlée
and a clean white dress.
Feed me from your finger -
they called us Silver-Plated:
an open locket,
like angel wings.
Laughter;
the melting point of wax
means nothing to us.
Written by
Jessie Anna H
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Alicia Hubert
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