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Picked and Pocketed

You dusted me off,
And held me to the light.
You traced me with your tongue,
Made me shimmer that night.
I thought I could be your mountains,
Your flimsy angels in the snow.
I thought I could be your supper,
Your wine and Sunday dough.
I thought I could be your elixir,
Your honey-lust confection.
I found myself back in the earth.
I was just another collection.

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