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Mar 2013
your skin is made
of spiderwebs
you fall apart
under the slightest pressure
I can’t help but scream
when I think of touching you again

you repeat the words,
“space,” “distance,” “separation”
like a prayer
as if that could solve our problem
your tongue is a burning iron
your teeth are soldiers to distrust

you say you want to be truthful
but your entire body vibrates
under the thunder
of my sobs
Janelle Flora Viser
Written by
Janelle Flora Viser
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