peeled back, there exists only layers

brimming with retreats and sacred spaces
porous: life breath contained within
savory, sweet, and saccharine
make-up, latticed shit-luck aces
a tartan of a gambler, 
we've got memories of glass and amber
stretched too thin and relived daily renamed the trauma
pulverized to make for fuel; you ran when she first called you mama.

so secretly alone in ...

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