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i was born from clay
from mud and dirt
from cruel gods, cold light
fingerprints swirl across my skin
as if i was once art
yellow sunflowers in a yellow pot
van gogh's fingerprints lost to the bouquet
i let the sun touch me now
(he isn't the sun;
he is the closest i need to be)
his tongue smoothing the marks of the old gods
his hands whispering the secrets of stars to my stomach
i will let them redefine me as enough
01/25/2023