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Redd Poem
Redd Poem
my memory your form is sharp; i like the opalescent light that reflects off your bare chipped bones; only, i just want to sit beneath the apricot tree that grows up through your cracked ribcage and hold a magnifying glass to the dusty wings of moths that dangle from your fossilized skull; but, forgotten do you know? its alright that now we only speak through your peeling bark.