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Spaghetti knots


She took my poems

out from my fingers

and spread them across

my lips so that

each letter I smeared

she smeared onto me

first with her look

or her heels or

her cheeks or her

self. I’m stained.


Covers fall

in between us

and she has

never been more


Is the bed

too large

or am I

too small?


Sun slings

over her hat

licking her in

ways that I’d never be

able to with my belly

round and full

with a life

without her.

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters. Follow my wordpress or my IG (@_kenkan)


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