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Dec 2013
Pool of blood turns sticky
Icky thick tick picked off and tossed aside
carve a pumpkin-
watermelon smile
black teeth grow
sprout green,
a textured ridge
bridge the gap between what I mean and what is seen.
I think of you in your blue room
With all the pieces contrary
love isn't real but imaginary.
Ann Beaver
Written by
Ann Beaver
676
   Chuck and JM
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