you/th lost to the vo/id

 

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sugar water

i caught a monarch butterfly / and felt the beat of its wings, / soft like a pulse against my palms. / paper thin, / i cradled it, i spoke softly / i cried while ripping off its wings / but i was only doing / what many have done to me.

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introspection

this, at least, is familiar. the dull lull / between 1am and 5am: the quiet pocket of space / where nothing is expected of me, the ache behind eyes, / the slope of a body / that might be mine, where i am nothing / but soft moonlight and / the hesitant things
i whisper to the softness.

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