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The Winding
by Rachelle Howe
winding roads,
they twist and i've been
twisted into knots in your
stomach and
you've leapt into my eyelids,
festering like boils beneath my skin.
i carved you out, once,
twice, with a razorblade
and a paper towel.
i took a hit,
inhaled your memory
into lungs that have crystallized.
(but when i exhaled
the world was blue and
you were there
green eyed
and envious.)
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