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Sep 2014
beast, you are.
What will become of me?
You devour my chest, a beat slithers down your throat.
***** black-painted nails grabbed at your fur,
smooth as the silk of a widow’s nightgown,
yet now they rest among an internal *****.
The moon smirks.
She’s proud.
Her disciple is showing his scripture through
action.
beast gray grey savage widow silk metaphor ***** body heart wolf wild religious moon fur
Written by
Riley Renee  Williamsburg
(Williamsburg)   
505
 
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