I know these people.
Their voice box doesn’t even need to be awake.
I know their character by the way their lips are dressed.
A streak of blue,
I know their brain is sweating stress.
A display of rose,
I know their flirtatious fever is always contagious.
A heap of crust,
I know their anger stings the meaning of trust.
A stream of moisture,
I know their soul sooths and heals the shadows.
A thin size,
I know they seek comfort in a box.
A big size,
I know they feed off centre stage.
A nest of cuts,
I know they want the gift of love.
Justine Louisy
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