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Grasping This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.


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When I’m near you,
I feel like a tree,
Like if you cut me open I would be
Bloodless and laid out in a series of rings, confessions and
Every year I’ve lived without rain.

I feel like you might read the geography of my hands,
My fingerprints everywhere they should not be
And everything I have ever grasped for, every time
I have come up empty. This is why I distrust hands,
They are always
Reaching.

My reflection is everywhere I do not want it to be,
Windows, puddles and glass and eyes
That never blink, I see myself as shards until I don’t remember
What my face looks like, only its pieces.

I make my lips form words,
Will-ow. My mouth is full of them
And I cannot rid it of the taste.
Li-ar. The pattern of raindrops on the windshield and
How they are illuminated,

There are things I cannot forget,
Sirens, skin, and executions.




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BaileyM said...
today at 7:26 pm:
i LOVE this
 
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