there is a space
I can walk,
where I don't need
warpaint and fire,
or cries blasting open
the silence
where fault lines shift,
sink and explode,
and still I walk
held by opposite worlds,
and not swinging between them,
holding the one tiny spark
of love inside
for everything
tugging at this skin
called I.
I can walk,
where I don't need
warpaint and fire,
or cries blasting open
the silence
where fault lines shift,
sink and explode,
and still I walk
held by opposite worlds,
and not swinging between them,
holding the one tiny spark
of love inside
for everything
tugging at this skin
called I.
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