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Dec 2010
it makes the break soft, uneven. 
even if I could, i wouldn't—
what?
Sink firmly in until I could speak for you?
Say lovely things 
about what it was like?

Even then I would **** it.
Or at least watch it die; 
dispatch a small flock of birds
to make it seem
cherished.
Marsha Singh
Written by
Marsha Singh
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