When the clothes don’t glide of your skin there are suddenly sunsets so unreachable that you ache at the unconfirmed beauty of being

you had only ever seen, never dared noticed everyone living with their lives as they could have been by a coast, being ethunized, eroding with desaturation

underarms peeling froth shower creaking down my shins, clumsy with razorblades a sweetheart neckline folding its limbs into a bow:

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