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9/mars/t/04/940
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bag of goodies,...-goody bag! the crescent moon
the terrace gown
she seeps like a gossiping teenager
with too many lessons to learn
sophistication, unique, and planes
those black shorts- or were the beige?
exposing faint Italian hairs on her outer thigh
she is closed off like a child
secluding herself to forbearing solitude
translucent din
it follows her
like incertitude behind her ear
and perpetual anxiety
she falls to her place and is lost
