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Edge
October 29, 2022
She carved
icicles into her veins
The smell of
wet alyssums-
rancid-On the
Porch.
A crescent, partly
Cleft- a souvenir;
For the unversed.
The paperbacks, shiftless-
Spines peeling from
the Crest
Her face-an easel
seamless: Petrichor.
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Based on my experience with self-harm.