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The tattooist’s lines Soften Turn to blue                           Faiths have An anchor And forget me knot                           Marks time Within a beachfront kiosk                                Mattress in rear Note on shutters                          Saying                            Back in 15 minutes Older than her waist size Younger than the priced Sunday Sport tabloid Talking of big **** And WW2 bomber on the moon                           That she’d folded        As though sleeves rolled up Her name imprinted Each stick of rock                        On the seafront When anyone talked of Faith                               Pink words                                     Always turned blue
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Apr 23, 2025
Apr 23, 2025 at 9:53 AM UTC
Blue
The tattooist’s lines Soften Turn to blue                           Faiths have An anchor And forget me knot                           Marks time Within a beachfront kiosk                                Mattress in rear Note on shutters                          Saying                            Back in 15 minutes Older than her waist size Younger than the priced Sunday Sport tabloid Talking of big **** And WW2 bomber on the moon                           That she’d folded        As though sleeves rolled up Her name imprinted Each stick of rock                        On the seafront When anyone talked of Faith                               Pink words                                     Always turned blue
Simon-Bridges
Written by
Visiting Mother Gaia
Apr 23, 2025
Apr 23, 2025 at 9:53 AM UTC
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