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Nov 2010
i'm a frightened child, swinging
her fists anywhere they can land,
writing effigies across her
thighs with an inkless pen,
talking letters into the air,
addressed to a mother that
doesn't exist. i am a child,
and i want you to hold my
wrists steady, kiss my
forehead, rock me on your
lap and murmur into the space
after my face and before the
wall. i want you to wrap
me in a quilt, place another
steaming plate in my hands,
and listen to act one two
three four five six outro
final scene ending. sob
into your shoulder and unclench
my hands, i want to write you
letters.
title from the song i am currently listening to; fireworks by the whitest boy alive.


i don't really like this.
Written by
beth winters
684
 
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