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by Jenny DeVries

I begin to study your face but
I am broken in two by your canvass;
your will is beyond my pages, beyond my time for will;
your will disgraces my footnotes of past existence;
I am beckoning for words and now you appear, my friend.
Let us sit together until we combine our palettes, until we find a home within a home
dreadful to exist , dreadful not to exist.

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