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Feb 2020
Cross your legs, bow your head,
laugh softly, muffle your tears.
Occupy as little space as you can.

Don't look into their eyes,
they may see the fire blazing there.
Fires beckon to be extinguished.

Sit silently on this pedestal,
be the shiniest offering you can be.
The seller doesn't profit from bruised peaches.

Be the object of my desire,
here's a mold you must fit in.
Walking in the middle may confuse us.

You are the creator of the world,
but we will distract you with petty battles.
So you never realize you can win wars.

Hold your breath when you're scared,
don't move at all while I touch you.
Your shyness is your beauty.

Dressed in your bridal finery upon death,
frozen in the only identity that counts.
You will be perfectly still, finally perfect.
Written by
Shruti Gour
215
   Fawn
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