OoOoOoOoDevics
OoOthe smell of inkOoO
I look up high to light in my eyes
but it's not really there
is there no flattering light for this girl
no sun that might lift her
no stars that might kiss her
swimming through small spaces
and breathing under water
the nights I push play and sing myself to sleep
I mother myself and I'm comforted
in the thought that I am
I smell the ink on this paper and that too is comforting
a slave to music, a slave to sorrow, a slave to love







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