Poetry from The Well

To say no

I’m seeping past skin

whose duty was to

keep me in.

 

Through your eyes

I see your lighthouse,

just behind your sight.

 

Pupils dilated beg

the corners of my mouth

for deliverance.

 

Your coaxing words

stir my blood until

my no splinters

 

and pricks the

the pores of my

conceding smile.

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