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because i am broken
I hang below your palms
suspended by the thread coiled
around your finger.
i am closed,
the fat and skin that crowds
the bones of a shell hidden beneath
sticky
sand that clings to bare feet.
i am so easily read
and i am so easily manipulated.
i have watched blooming,
seen the beauty of growth that i
cannot have
or touch,
wondered if i would ever be so lucky.
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