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Oct 2021
My own skin — a skin that’s worn me out, I have scrubbed it raw and dry like a sorry imitation of Capitoline Venus, but statues manage to crumble so quietly, draped in wood dust and without so much as a heartbeat. And girls like me don’t know yet the weight of the things they have to lose: such as, 100 pounds — all bones, and coffee breaths, and yesterday's light straying, forgetting, falling off.

Now it has buried itself.
fray narte
Written by
fray narte  23/F/Philippines
(23/F/Philippines)   
294
   Benzene
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