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459 · Feb 2018
Road Maps
Liza Makarova Feb 2018
I got lost in the road map creases of your palms,


and the stromatic streets of your irises,


and the bar needle, compass cracks of your lips,


and as I looked for shelter,

I found myself walking in circles;

wrapped around your 


finger.


((((((((acquiesced))))))))

— The End —