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Past Stitchings

Posted on February 17, 2020 by Torrey

Amber eyes in the dying light

of this sunset confession

pools of poisoned honey,

your words are trickster’s pleas –

Loki’s own creed. A vigil to the lies

we told ourselves while we danced

around the truth we so violently –

so valiantly –

fought against. A spectre of ribbons

tying us together at the seams,

misshapen and mottled –

moths have eaten away our structure,

revealing the threadbare connections

we sought to maintain.

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