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Reverse Reflection This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

Polluted and ailing, I hesitate

before lapping at her toes.
She’s a flower of a girl, really
desperate to recoil, aching for nourishment.
I watch her fingers dance on plum bruises
that seem quite at home
on her maiden, milky skin.

I notice they are in the shape of my silhouette
just before I swallow her whole.



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