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Semi-Precious Stones
January 28, 2016
Beginnings and endings. I look up to the waxing moon. The grass is frozen and blue in the night light. It all feels like a motion picture. You’re a stream of consciousness I pretend to understand. I’m still under your thumb, on the back of your hand, and around your neck like a semi-precious stone. I hold no value. I am no rarity. I must choose a path and start running.
© Yara K., Bethesda, MD
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