Minor; Enough To Be Forgotten - Poem by athena bell
One by one she
the thin hairs
around her like a thimble of weeds,
strung about a
The small beetle had placed them there
away at her skin
her silk skin sin
slashed was her throat
slit were her thighs.
She did not cry.
She just slowly
plucked the coarse
choking her neckline.
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