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bare feet
look at her ivory skin and peach fuzz just surfaced.
her white satin always a sliver too wrinkled.
her plum bruises she twiddles her fingers over ever so often.
I’d say the sleepless shadows under her eyes are the same shade as her hair.
her socks were scraggly, loose threads with crimson sprinkles etched in the soles.
I asked once why she hadn’t worn shoes
and out of her words I deciphered,
“Bravery is walking on fears with bare feet, protection is the backbone of a coward.”
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