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Jul 15

Delicate Things

Delicate Things

butterfly

I spread my legs

And I spread my wings.

I remind myself they’re not the same thing,

But I can be a whore

And a butterfly

At the same time.

I’m far away,

A tiny speck of yellow against

A cloudless sky

Dipping down to drink from

Daisies, desert roses,

Queen Anne’s lace and

Dandelions.

I quench my thirst.

I wonder who I am this time,

His first love,

The one that got away,

His mother,

Or his wife,

Waiting for him at home.

He finishes.

I take a shower to wash him away.

This growing stack of bills

Will pay the cable for another month.

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