i have tired
like the words
you say too deep to swim
and sink you quick
i am sorry for
my face, that the chasteness
in your eyes says
does not lick, from stretching
on the toes, the twelfth
layer
where crimson legs cross
and throw jade bracelets
for an offering
to which you markedly decline
and decide the
tear in this lining
unforgivable to the task
at hand
on the pads of your fingertips
and leave quicksand
on my pages
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