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Hope Peck
Poems
Apr 2020
Untitled
what’s the point of
the everyday?
we can have drunkenness that makes
the nighttime more romantic
than our eyes will believe.
sweat on the nose,
honey on the tongue,
bitter citrus as it goes down.
i have to decide preemptively
to keep my hands to myself,
to keep my heart in my sleeve.
Written by
Hope Peck
21/F/Philadelphia
(21/F/Philadelphia)
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