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Bus Stop

Leave, left, leaving

I never felt the grass weaving

I never felt my skin peeling

off my shoulders and into my hands

 

Bent, break, breaking

I never left my hands shaking

I never held my throat, aching

down my spine and into the bedframe

 

Held, hold, healing

I never kept my knees kneeling

I never felt my mouth bleeding

off my chin and onto my chest

 

Heal, hell, heaving

I never slipped my hands, thieving

I never caught my feet leaving

off the grass and into the street

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Written by
hana-grace-wiebe
Canadian
Published
Jul 26, 2012
Lines·Words
16·88
Permission

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