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September 11, 2017 | by  | in Poetry |
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Poem

I woke up to the cold outside
Left four small quarters on the floor
Picked up my mouth
Sometimes it hurts, it’s sore
The me days linger of burnt toast
Smells sweeter than most
But sweet is a cheater
that is subtly composed

A hard tainted kiss in the morning
Waste, exhaled
In the cracks of my breath
Yawning

Couple gentle pecks throughout my day
A Couple more

Then finally, silently crying and dancing
at the same time
One more, I’m sure
This is me dealing with the cold outside.

 

ART - POEM (anonymous)

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