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I'm thinking about hands again.                                                I'm thinking about             how yours are big             and mine are small and how yours fit                                 nicely                      around my throat mine claw at your back and i gasp                                                         **** me* And I'm thinking about your steadiness                            and my shakes         and about how we both create                                universes with just our hands                  and our lips                          and our teeth. I'm thinking about how           my hands would like to find yours in the dark               and rest in it's spaces                              under your ocean               of blankets,     like an empty glass waiting to be filled.
0
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
one more about hands, or the poem where she finally says ****
I'm thinking about hands again.                                                I'm thinking about             how yours are big             and mine are small and how yours fit                                 nicely                      around my throat mine claw at your back and i gasp                                                         **** me* And I'm thinking about your steadiness                            and my shakes         and about how we both create                                universes with just our hands                  and our lips                          and our teeth. I'm thinking about how           my hands would like to find yours in the dark               and rest in it's spaces                              under your ocean               of blankets,     like an empty glass waiting to be filled.
erin-atkinson
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May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 7:07 PM UTC
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