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Sep 2018
i cant give up my heat
to what i really need
arent i   just like
my mother? clumsily
birthed a child, again,
and another, tearing
a *** hole, bleeding
lifetimes, swallowing
salt with a mouth like wound. i
wish i never hurt i
an apple tree
carrying entrails
like knowledge
i devour, an eater
fell in love
with  famine. arent i
just like   my mother?
a lady, sword  on her hand
scale ingrained on her heart
covers her eyes, but never
forgets to count. how many years
do i have left?
outlive me, or rather
i'll let you
have my youth.
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