Low Shoulders
Low Shoulders
Glowing like fake pearls
In her skin my eyes
Aren’t enough. She is awake
As silver rustles. But
Cautious in the cold I
Have been always clumsy.
I rip chintz and mugs
Split. I will not crack her.
We will both sigh, but she
Will be whole and open
For pilgrims who have tidy hair.
By MAFC
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