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Apr 2013
let, let go of my wrists,
which are much too heavy
I let him explore that field
& he put his heart in his ***
Fell asleep on the beach &
the grey waves are approaching
like a baby in its crib
or an old man, rather,
dead in his grave

let, let the hours melt,
bound, the one after the other
the time that his body
can’t leave any prints,
that he’d be swallowed by the sea,
I would have drank every ocean,
willingly, hands tied back
but the salt water burns my lips
just as much as my words bite back

step, step back, it’s the moment,
I leave him on the rocks,
to go sleep with the sun,
at dawn, I’ll return to eat,
**** dry his petrified ribs
Bury his bones beneath the castles
of sand that decorate & spot
the horizon of this cannibal’s feast
La Jongleuse
Written by
La Jongleuse  France
(France)   
871
   st64, jdmaraccini and hello
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