Sending Icebergs

It’s like a birth but it is in reverse never gets better, always gets worse

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She tells me her age
almost like bust measurements
seven at heart
sixty in the head
only eighteen

I masturbate to the idea
of those ages
adding up

Like the curvature
of an hour glass
running low on
things to hold onto.

Filed under Poems poetry prose writing

  1. sirenoftheeast reblogged this from sendingicebergs
  2. hairspraysuppository said: I got a boner
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