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Bad Hands.jpg
by Milena Bee


at the peak of
abandon, nine lives left

all alone. in decay.
in danger of losing.


to be thirsting beneath you, the lethal

regality of coming undone


to belong alongside your throat.
no apology for the blood on your lips.

no apology for the way love escapes you

to settle in me.


slender grasp upon corded muscle, upon a stretch towards the light. can’t wait


to rip my own throat out
under your touch is a divine pleasure

fit only for us, in tandem momentum 


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