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Angst Kindling Where has mean mouthed tinder and angst kindling gone? I tried to blow at the bark curls of my past. I whistled up ghost boys, who only looked sideways at me. I went gossip fishing for someone who didn’t deserve happiness. I cat called at deep hurts. I poured fuel to old injuries. I even read my diaries but real love has drenched my bitter poetry. I used to draw in cigarette smoke to heat the fever in me then exhale pain in weighted lines of self discovery. I didn’t guess the consequence when I fell for his warm scent. |
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Previously published on thepoetsguild.com.
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