lyrically longing, she's tearing the words from the page.
she's fearfully seething.
'bring me your blessings, a prayer, or a new pen.
- you don't know what i need.'
'look in my bed and i'm bound to be sleeping,
i'm lying there dead, but i'm breathing.
and i'm barely balancing as it is,
and i don't want to drown in my dreams.bring me wild plums
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