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Broken Glass

No I won’t

Hear your words

They slide out of your mouth

And right into the palms of your hands

You offer them up

For me to chew and swallow

I don’t want their pleasing aroma

To trick me into indulging in the mirage of their existence

I scoop of shreds of broken glass

From alleyways and abandoned buildings,

The dirt they lie in a secondary bonus

We crush them between our teeth

Grinding their saltiness into my blood

Until we grind them into a fine powder

Half she takes, and I take mine

Together we scrub my face raw

Your words have soiled my insides

And I need to be cleansed


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