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Nov 2015
My hands bleed here

a hum of darker red

cold is the body of 
remembrance.

You – lovely, with no shape

hair of thorns

a ruby in the throat – 

crawl and dig inside

long after the dust 

has turned the walls

a heavy shade of black.
Lía Cruz
Written by
Lía Cruz  Pennsylvania, US
(Pennsylvania, US)   
329
   Aniron and Mike lowe
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