[seeing yourself reflected in my
languid pool always
death of me]
It’s no accident that I’m quiet.
This barely means
I’m speechless; done with that.
Why do I always become the villain
in everytaker’s fairytales?
They have never met [me]
but never fail to use [me].
For my empathy, my interest,
my creativity, my soul.
It’s an… antiquity, I know.
& every time you fail it’s like …
my mouth stretches/and stretches
I smile, my sutures split o p e n
I can’t help
oh, j’adore war
3 thoughts on “Left in Stitches”
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Thank you ❤
Oh, j’adore this one!! 😁🖤
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