tagNon-Erotic PoetryTwinkst the Hangers

Twinkst the Hangers


I have overflowed my house
and now hoard your closet
love. Living in twinkst the hangers,
slothed in a fishman’s sweaters,
I breathe you in threads.

Should I
a fibrous union that even bleach
would not threatenate? No.
For soon as joined, a carpet made.

Here amound the shoeless
but soulful thmupping
is this, your closet, Love. Wear
me out.

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byVictoria_Lucas© 2 comments/ 1315 views/ 0 favorites

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