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Writer's pictureReebecca Black

Midtown Coffee House Confession

Muse: Curled

She sat in the middle of the pond with steaming edges and dripping turning heads,

Her arms where bound and her tilted crown was melting as fast as ice sickles on a mid summer day,

She was blind folded wearing dark clothes,

Waving back and forth her wrinkled toes where creepily long enough to touch the sealing,

Like six feet seaweed waving under the trenches of the sea,

It was hard enough to see where the water was coming from beneath her let alone wondering where she buys her sneakers,

Her skin was coiled and dark green like a toad,

Blonde hair with a bang that bounced back and forth off the tip of her nose,

Her mouth was replaced with extra skin for no words to start nor begin,

You can hear a silent screech echoing from the walls,

Coming from deep down in her core whistling like the wind,

As if her voice was trapped somewhere between core and thought,

Rocking back and forth in the middle of the floor,

Squirming and squirting her rope looks like its beginning to hurt her,

I can see for certain the more she moves the tighter the rope bends,

Digging into her skin her coils begins to shed,

Now there's something red dripping from under her blind fold,

I start to drink my coffee with my eyes closed,

I start to reminisce from last night how she made my toes curl,

Now she sits here in my daydream with no weight of the world,

Looking for a way out but I haven't even started yet...




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