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Tag Archives: kiss

I cry a lot
More often than I exercise
But this crying is exercise, a release
A good hustle to the top of the bottom of something
a hill or hole
depending on the day and how much strength I have in
confronting my weakness

Although, I am not weak just because I cry
I am most certainly alive
For I can feel the two furthest bits of me, kiss
Pain kissing Peace
Peace killing Pain

Britta B.

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Somewhere ‘tween the blowing curtains and his kiss
I started to feel like
I didn’t belong
like I should have
been down the street
talking to Average Joe
about LSD, vinyl records, and the best techniques for keeping the
government out of your business
but no
I was caught, uncool
crumbling, uncool
lackadaisically keeping up
with the shifts and the twists of a tongue I could have sworn belonged to a whale
as it slid down my throat and into my pocket for later
for when I finally go home to my roommate, squatting on top of a milk crate
stroking the final touches of her latest attempt to paint her take on the
skin-close encounters of the wild things we tend to bump into
when we’re just looking for something good to listen to
a groove that jingles especial for our jungle
ah yes, that’s when I’ll pluck the rubbery velvet from the corners of my mouth
and question, “If boys are my weakness, Maj, what will a man do to me?”

 Britta B.