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Dec 2019
I painted them red,
(read: Clownish)
Cherry-dipped and ripe
For your taking.

I hoped that you'd find them,
A beacon amongst black. And
Worm your way into them -
Warm, wet, writhing.

But I think I was too green, too naive,
So stunted that if you squeezed me -
With heavy hands - I would burst.
Written by
lossa
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