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smallhands
Poems
Jul 2016
de tribulatione nostra
we're hollowed out and it's blissful
perfection in ice-cube form
the credits are rolling and you speak as if
words burn your tongue
take me to those places you used to only
like going to alone
oh, vast and relentless is our trouble,
and we love it
-c.j.
Written by
smallhands
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