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Emily Pancoast
Poems
Oct 2012
Tiny crevices
The only her I know is
trapped
in glass panes
throwing back
sun spun hair
and smouldering ember eyes
pomegranate seed lips
and watermark cheeks
One is enough
she said
staring into her own grey-blue pools
hungering for words handed back
and pressure applied
to long festering cracked wounds
Written by
Emily Pancoast
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Brea Brea
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