confessions v.1.2

feathers have always grazed my lips
I even used to suck my thumb to them
often
satin ribbons and the smoothness of
that white blanket stained yellow. though the best will always be
the bunching of the silky short strands of the Siamese;
who lent their bodies to my fingertips
twins that laid in hearts and linked kink-tails tied inside
and the other blinded left from birth
behind those names that rhymed with
fling song and basha.

thanks, you guys. I miss you.

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