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Jun 2012
soothe me
soul between finger and thumb
breath
grace these parted lips
an exhaled spate of stars

folded paper cranes
child-made
blissfully
restricted

existence is wasted
if you cannot enjoy
rain
moist on a tattered cheek
for fear of dissolving

over the brick awning
i watched a black storm
of white doves
circling
poignant and pure



she is innocent
beautifully so
minus her street clothes
a babe in cotton sheets
eyes closed
and
smooth tongue
on
cool skin

my eyes stumble
over a rough face
happy panic
draw me from memory
with permanent marker
and please
this holocaust love

if you can

make it last
Lindsey Miller
Written by
Lindsey Miller
647
   Lindsey Miller
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