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what am I?
a curled fist of dandelions 
waiting for a jelly glass 
a clumsy giggle tumbling
chockablock with poppycock


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There was a haunting beauty behind her eyes, beyond her sorrow, a beauty that found its way into one’s heart and led them home.

photo bombshelter

I am
the final victor
your ash
in the skin
of my boots

for the story of this image click here