the wages of sin...A Poem by Nearly Blonded
crooked lines on bent wrists
stemming from a contorted crucifix bathing our tanned skin in poisoned holy water indoctrinate the blue boys with their indigo lips wishing to sip the nectar of God milk and honey colored flesh turns crimson in the witching hour scrapes and scars adorn babies and bedsides serving as tally marks and placeholders for a cinnamon-scented embrace and wet kisses a well-deserved punishment fleshy and red, escaping my chest pulsating quicker than before bore in the crook of my elbow slipping out falling in my lap harder than ever to conceal
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StatsAuthorNearly BlondedPhiladelphia, PAAbout16 y/o Frank Ocean loving, book-bag shoving, racially ambiguous gal attempts to better herself and her writing, attempting to do so by getting feedback on her art: a concept. more..Writing
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