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sour patches

your words drag

filed nails across

a chalkboard, so

astride the music

.

that ebbs and flows

beneath your voice

a cascade of lullaby

when you dare sing

.

but you’ll never need

to be one or the other

terrible temper along

soft childish laughter

.

i so adore you and

your whim, for you are

never more darling

than you have ever been.

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Filed under Poetry