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Jul 12
Her yarn sings to me, wrapping around me like I am the knitting needle. I am stuck, happily stuck, between oblivion, the short cues, the seam ripper. Taking my dreams, weaving them with things, embroider me like I’m in a catalogue

The yarn stretches out, luring me more, deeper and deeper into her knitted womb: soft, fuzzy peach and a fleshy-toned pink escapes from the room, and leaches into here

Every time I look up through the soft exits of light, into her smooth-pebbled eyes, I see what she’s thinking of
fuggedaboutit
acacia
Written by
acacia  F/orbis
(F/orbis)   
183
   S Olson and Muzaffer
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