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  • Writer's pictureJafei Pollitt

A lullaby of the lips

Dirt rumbling on smooth stone

A headache that spins and spins and spins

Eyes locked with eyes locked with mine

Smirk, mock, cease, fumble

The lips tighten

lies or truths

Retract, refine the eyes

Looks aren’t looks

But gaping pits the pink of the lips

That’s where you want to look.

Saliva full of sanctuary

Their true religion, their true tune

Colors bolden near the pupil

But the black the white

The grey the untouched matter

All in the tongue, the cupid’s bow

A smile isn’t a smile if it’s always held

It’s a canvas stringing out of place

Snip the wires the dance falls

The skirt of our skin billows

Lids fall where windows wanted

Make time with the eyes

Seep in air with waves

In and out and in and out

Pale flowers pictured in alignment

Curved and gracious

Gravestones marked with a smile Pink of the lips pink of the lips.

perched pointlessness of the mind

flooding into air

drain with skin on skin

lip on lip

pink on pink on pink on pink

spin to spin

rumbling of white

silence like the smoothness of a rock

pink of the lips.

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