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Apr 2018
6 weeks
and I still want to wash my body
In bleach.
Go over each inch,
With a bristle brush.
Watch my skin bleed.
Because no matter what I do
I can not get the taste of him
Out of my mouth,
Get rid of feeling
Inside me.

Fingers touching my throat
My lips on his neck
I can't get rid of it.

Fifty one days
My soul is still too soft
Too soluble
For his liking.
My liquid gold
Can not fill the cracks in his soul
The jagged edges of his ribs.

Instead it slides down his body
My tongue follows
We cool on uneven stones
slowly i get better but heres something
Written by
Tsunami  22/Androgynous/Canada
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