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Not even the simple act of rest comes I had fallen many times from this spell:
without profound suffering. the cool current passing over my toes
before seeing a bit of myself hanging
from your smiling lips. My wound, a
trace of your icy-breath desire to
take my feet and walk away from me.
I have gathered all of your forgotten
fur from my nightstand drawer and
plastered it to my body.
maryclaire.ondiano@lsu.edu.ph
jankate.lambiquit@lsu.edu.ph
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