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The Single Girl’s Guide To Sant Jordi
I have no need for flesh to burn. My alter aches for roses, given with good intentions, their petals, soft and sentimental, easing the exertion of existing in a home that grows ever hostile to my heart. The right one never comes. I’ve never been a martyr, because I’m too much of a narcissist, neatly…
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Hopeful, Again.
Hopeful, again. I am hoping for the best, because I sleep restfully since I met you. I tried your name out in my mouth, and it fit. It tasted good. I imagined a gentle kiss, in the soft glow of the moonlight, and, God, my body smouldered, so starved for something she had barely tasted.…
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Growing Up
I think wistfully about what I will be like when I grow up. Clean credit cards, a clean sink that gleams, as if it has never glimpsed a dirty dish, a son, settled into sleep (I am so convinced it is a boy), while I write, perched on the windowsill, singing softly to my assorted…
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Laying in the bed that she made all alone – A Poem For Gabbie Hanna
Applause is not instant, and to you, that is an insult. The damsel who demands attention but does nothing to keep it, nailing names to the bottom of expensive shoes and trampling through mud, just to make sure that you stay relevant. Oh, wayward winter child, it’s all such a hardship, isn’t it? Lost in…