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3-4 Line Poetry

  • December 16, 2020

Heathen

If my love for you is a sin Then I would spit in God’s face  And take the Devil’s hand

Footsteps

I noted the frequency of your footsteps The irregularity of your breaths My heart stopped as you neared my door What did I do wrong?

Honey

Her voice is like honey Sweet and slow Forever entrapping me 

Preparation

Did you have a plan? The doctor asked  Of course I had a plan What kind of idiot didn’t have a plan

Dysmorphia

I watched with satisfaction as the scale dipped lower than ever I knew that cutting out carbs would work I just didn’t know why my mother was crying

Isn’t she happy I was finally beautiful?

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