THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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365 days the breath of every moment held in my chest where i spoke her name quiet there was her wrists no sparrow bird at it/s breaking just the strength and the colour tingle of skin and open palm cigarette smoking and there was her eyes a transference of simple emotion green fire explosions and chocolate warm [in a john donne kinda way that didn/t make sense off a hundred year old page of masturbatory indulgence] there was her skin but my breath comes harder with rememberance and i realise that i can/t talk about that here 365 days the breath of every moment held in my chest where i spoke her name quiet so quiet she forgot my name or to say goodbye as she left |
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