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Apr 2017
ripe limed watermelon *****
wear light stricken sun stripes
for an absent bottom
without oxygen
but inside
infused with pink ecstasy
that births the belly of many seeds
see,
these decoys in our sight
seem willing
but they were alright just sitting
on
cross-legged coils in sun beams
what the acid stains left
when they came as spoiled decay:
a spot of impiety
where veins were torn
off
from a she-deity
and the gyroscopic fruit
before being eaten
was
already
gone
a smoldering battle collects dust and fame. it is the fruits of our labor contained, won fervently and dually lost, once picked, as a  zonal separation of the memory
Written by
Vivian Grace  19/F/Norfolk, England
(19/F/Norfolk, England)   
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