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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() The woods are bare cleaved of tangerine, apricot, clementine, pomegranate leaves falling on already fallen leaves versicolor in the dirt he is an impulse his hand running the rise and falls of her throat. her hair falling over his knees. his finger pressed in her mouth between the soft of her cheek and her porcelain teeth. feels it like this autumnal affection ardent affliction and the flesh of it rounding a sphere through her left cheek warming in her spit The season sliding through their fingers. her dress slipping off pooling silk at her feet everything in her eyes girlish turning dark snuffing out the autumn light lying face down in dirt soaked in equinox rains eyes darker than soil than burnt fruit souring. ash-soft hairs atomized in the wind. in the instance of such ephemeral things, she tells herself that the violence cannot help but be associative. He comes out of the woods. palming the milkflower plucked from between her thighs. her autumn dress and the fallen fruit ripe to the woods floor. Comments are closed.
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November 2023
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