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Ramona Davis Dec 2019
I keep imagining obscure
little ***** tickling
your eyes

the air is dancing
wildly as your trust is dressing
in a dark place

my mother won't look
and all I need is a stare
her hands glow

disapproval is too great
to only be feared of
love, don't you know

I fear of the side I'm on
to a shaky trace,
follow milky orders

it concerns the prince
when the room
is in lack of mirrors

it concerns the sleepers
when outside gets quiet
and thinner are edges

on which I so love to
sit alone
don't you know

love, come and carry
my heart
as your own.

— The End —