Your shard is sticking out my fucking neck.
A foreign body pouring deeper into the crevice. Curled up necks to me, jugular. You make me want to puke hot, steamy bile. A sticky reminder of what used to be. Everything is glowing pus yellow. Swelling, bursting, flooding, flowing. Dull. I miss you, shard inside my neck, even though you had to go.
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AuthorI write stories, but sometimes I write poetry about the slippery and crunchy moments in life. Archives
July 2023
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