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Aug 2018
Dead heavy eyes stare...
Glued to stoplights lining rain soaked streets.
An arid tongue placed, no permanently stuck against pink flesh bone
Waiting for when everything doesn’t seem like a dream.
She thinks blinking is a way to clear her sea foam eyes,
Like how polishing stone makes it brighter.
But no matter how hard she rubs
The rain falls harder and
Clarity seems like a wish
She dropped in a puddle.
Alice Wilde
Written by
Alice Wilde  24/F/MA
(24/F/MA)   
  817
     Fawn, Santita and Kauthar
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