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Sarina
Poems
Nov 2012
the vow
Six feet away, a gun sleeps
on the sidewalk
pulsing
and I swear vows break
every minute,
why should this one concern
me? Feels like
arsenic
dripping through my
body, the veins.
and I turn white
for it,
but the trigger is black
midnight
is always speaking to me,
break this vow,
or the vow will break me.
Written by
Sarina
forests
(forests)
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Michael Valentine
,
---
and
Jerry
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