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May 2018
. conscience of gold
never stopped me from wrapping
my heart up in the darkest of things.
don't go, tread
softly on this newly broken soil. Kiss
your palms once each before you touch
anything that resides here. Leave
your twisted metal heart at the door, it won't pass
the screenings.  I want to know what summer tastes like
I want to know how the colors rest on your tastebuds and dissolve
into your bloodstream, warm and
welcoming. Brush
the dust off old phrases
turn them over in this new light to see
how they fit.
Shelf them, along with
iron fists and barbed wire. We've no need of such
weapons in this place.
Written by
KM Hanslik  20/F/Ohio
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