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Jane Doe

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she was so plain from
The Front
you’d never guess her tail
another girl at the party.

white skin snowy down
Black Crown
short, skinny nothing but
bony elegance.

timid deer-in-headlights
Doe Eyes
round blue orbs, light at
the rims, dark center.

dismissed her, boring, of no
Importance
pretend to listen, quickly
excuse myself with excuses.

then like a red flower in
Winter
retreating back catches
my eye, what is…that on…

her white bones sewn
Together
red string reminders,
scar down her two flat

scapula, cut and repaired
Scalpels And
threaded bumps weave
paths through the snow

feel them, I want to heal the
Scars
must exercise impulse control
that'd be much too odd, oh too

late, first finger extended
Shiver
brush down the trail, softly
down her spine while she

talks with others then stops
She Felt
my hand graze, too much pressure
I sense her tense and then those

eyes, orb-like whip around
Confused
soften as she understands
that I think the scars are very

“beautiful,” I whisper
Uncertain
if this is all in my head
world between sleep and

reality sets in over the room’s
Silence.
“how did it happen.” “I broke.”
“what’s your”—“Jane Doe.”

she turns slowly, slyly away
Beautiful Back,
never should have written her off
Only deserving, she returned the favor.



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