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Chewing on Weeds I watched a girl blow bubbles into the wind. She chased them as they floated over tall grass, landing in the weeds. When she got there they were gone. It was the same weed I chewed on as a kid - it grew wild in the neighbor's yard, tall brown shoots that danced in the wind. I thought it was safe it didn't look safe it didn't taste safe I didn't care. It was there and I wanted it. I felt a deep, familiar ache, settling in the pit of my stomach... me, you, and a stem of bitter weed. |
Additional Notes:
The lack of punctuation and capitalization in the fourth stanza is intentional.
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