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Loves
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Red Clover
I dream of him less than I used to –
But our story always starts the same.
I am small, and his oil-stained hands hold me like the Red Clover,
So tightly that I think he’ll never let me go.
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Ponderings
I wonder what heaven looks like. I wonder this as an atheist. Is it space, sailing among stars? Is it merely a concept, eternally to be determined, determined by fate?
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How It Feels To Take Up Space
The day you decide to stop looking in the mirror
Your Body
Like punctuation
Stopping you in your tracks
Puzzle Piecing your mouth shut
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Janus
He who sees without eyes,
he who’s earth and yet flies,
he who lives and yet dies,
who is he?
He who speaks without thought,
he whose theft is uncaught,
he who’s desperately sought,
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