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Apr 2013
you leave me tasting so metallic
i'd always pictured such softer hands
when you smoothed me over
in daylight dreams.
but i am wedged in comfort's drawer,
corners dig into my hips
as I wheeze a stale warm release;
clouds that lift me in between
bated breaths and rumination
of time poorly spent.
you are the rusty smoke in my throat.
4/24/13 journal freewrite
Paris Adamson
Written by
Paris Adamson
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