The iceberg she carries
inside her chest has started
melting. Lines of icy water
run down her legs whenever

she walks, their daily music
ringing like a bell. Look
closely at her exposed midriff
and you might see its crested

head pressed against the skin,
forming a peacock-blue bruise
swirling like a hurricane
on the outside. I often wonder

whether she is tempted to cut
it free, watching it slide
as far as it can go before falling
off the edge of the earth.

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byvampiredust© 5 comments/ 2197 views/ 0 favorites

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