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Sep 2017
Moss on my trees,
Falling in my windows.
Brought an aching to my knees
And a haze that only grows.
A leap towards the pine
With the tip of my spine.
A look in your eyes,
The witch hazel colored highs.
Like the fog in my morning,
I drive my sun to you.
A honey dew heart that will swallow me soon.
He makes me think of tarot cards and bees.
Natassia Serviss
Written by
Natassia Serviss  Non-binary/Arizona
(Non-binary/Arizona)   
339
   Me Díaz
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