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tl b
Poems
May 2014
****
Nightly, she mirrored his skin
with her hands pressed
to the places considered sin
when not properly dressed.
Connected dots with kisses
on his back, arms, lips;
the things she misses
are ghosts on **** ships.
Soft skin lotions her bones
soothing the stinging insults, raw
by his words in harsh tones,
like snapping the straps of her bra.
Written by
tl b
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Jaclyn Arencibia
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