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Sep 2021
paintings on every street
frames of gold
and engraved wood
hands I cannot take

a god of my own making
I look for your eyes from across the room
my stomach dances in the dim light
what I don't have
written in your forehead

silk clings to your skin
fingers graze a little too long and
I don't know why I have nothing to say
when you stare at me

marble carved out of dust
Written by
Cassie
77
 
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