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Raylind Feb 2018
though a gold wet glass I stare ahead
eyes wide open
into the vast and open fish market
palms reek
of all that I have drank
my coin purse sunk, at the bottom
of this ship
I gave up my hair twice
for the kiss that would drown me,
finally,
making the act of coming up for air,
inconvenient
1/26/2018

— The End —