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Mar 2014
I remember braiding hair
at the mouth of the river,
golden strings weaving
between my fingers

legs stretched roughly
across long grass, the
itch of it spreading
under our cotton

I imagine, the waves
washing over my face
as I swim down consuming
the deep black drop
of nothingness,

as I cover my ears
to the roars
of planes,

turn my guts away
from the motion
of a boat

I listen,
to the beat of
your heart as I thread

strand over strand

and pull
Emma Elisabeth Wood
Written by
Emma Elisabeth Wood  F/UK
   ---, aerielle, rained-on parade and nivek
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