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Matt Fruia

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My face is red
I think I'll stop inserting these
little pieces of paper against that
beautiful crevice-free mountainside zig-zag shapes
across your nose, and
other mysterious letters on your face
the night you became a
savage.
And did you know that I never
shared my blood, not even with my
brother a shame which I will always
bear, unless someone
tears me down out of all
these clouds.





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