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Reverse Reflection
January 18, 2013
Polluted and ailing, I hesitate
before lapping at her toes.
She’s a flower of a girl, really
desperate to recoil, aching for nourishment.
I watch her fingers dance on plum bruises
that seem quite at home
on her maiden, milky skin.
I notice they are in the shape of my silhouette
just before I swallow her whole.
© Michelle B., Blairsville, GA
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