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Got no soft in me now     buttons studded into my bones

I fled you     stumbling down streets     and shaking

water from my umbrella     silver sliding down the spindles


hovering over spliced tiles     I made myself sick     with you

the clip of fingers over my face     and the dying made me

a crescent     hovering over a half-filled village     I know


glass shards don’t swarm together     I know I lie scattered

across this carpet     glinting up at the ceiling     don’t

drape a moth-clogged blanket     over my shoulders


stamp on the thinning envelope     as houses look down

at us     still to hear our sound     I hear the wolves

we fenced away from here     fur crumbling at the roots

Lake W.

Coalesced Tapes


Lake W. is a teenager living in the United States. Her work has previously appeared in Before I Leave Zine, Vagabond City Literary Journal, and Thistle Magazine. She tweets @lakewrites and her Tumblr is @stonemattress.

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