Lips And What They Don'T Want You To See - Poem by James McLain
How did they become as they are?
A heart once open.
Even if blue is as I last left it.
And last night is friday.
Lips before that become again.
Are best suited,
when early in the morning.
And a moan.
Any way the lips that I see through a crack.
Are differant looking lips.
The gloss perhaps.
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