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Dec 2018
.  The faucet is left open
seconds of water left running
while we sleep

    the winds all tap on the window
they lay themselves out along the glass
to cover her ugly nakedness
while we sleep

    smoke and frost look too alike
so why does one stay while the other
simply flies

   where do you run
to the guillotine?
you’ve no one to execute
though you are the queen

  you bury your hands into the horizon
between pain and bliss
the ladder is falling
it fits in your wrist
the second poem of the first installment of short spontaneously written strings of words. happy new year xo.
Written by
Lia  16/☾┊she’s in the rain ┊ ☆
(16/☾┊she’s in the rain ┊ ☆)   
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