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Liz Devine
Poems
Feb 2013
Sunday Sickness
My skin is dry.
I watch it crack and peel,
flake and fall down,
roll off my body to the floor
My hands are tired
from sleeping with closed fists,
from trying to hold on,
and fighting to let go
My body aches
and my face twitches
while my head pounds
with loud thumping,
in my ears.
*I think something's wrong.
Written by
Liz Devine
Brooklyn
(Brooklyn)
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