The voice told me,
“You have a seething eternity of poetry
Inside you. A seething eternity.”
I didn’t want to listen,
But she was right.
Because I felt the longness
Of the ages in my hollow bones
And in the ink-stained whorls
Of my scorched finger tips.
~~~
❤👽xoxoxo👽❤
~~~
*** Ugh. ***
Poetry is not the only beautiful thing inside you!
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Thank you ❤
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xoxoxo
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