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Oct 2018
Always used to dance fearlessly
never caring who, you
caught a glimpse, skirts swaying
in a pleated breeze; afternoon
winds blow in reservation
like an ephemeral season's
unforgiving deliverance.
Matured, promiscuity a dagger,
a defense mechanism in adolescence,
but I may have been wiser
than to imagine their touch
could save me from all
the things I never knew, pained me more
than the gore on the big screens.
Finding devotion like kissing God,
rolled in like high tide past midnight
uninvited and looking for a score;
the moon holds vigilance above my heart,
sinking and emerging recurrently,
left to drown in an endless sea
from which there will be no rescue.
Zoe Averill Ren
Written by
Zoe Averill Ren  24/F/FL
(24/F/FL)   
101
 
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