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james Nov 2019
every smoking, electric chemical
balled into coals burning red and hot
white knuckles and eyes like swords
sharp and blinding in the sun
i light a match in the forest
and he throws himself into me,
inferno on his lips, in bared teeth

are we fighting? am i failing?
to **** a dragon that's already killed me
your breath is hot. your scales, rough,
are calloused hands that grip my collar
im breathless, but i havent thrown a punch
i see you falter.

are we fighting?
are you sure?
i wrote poems using inktober prompts. here's day 12: dragon

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