162 lede

this chain that quickens into its continuing. by Bridget Boylan

WE continue to kill / and cradle each other / trying to contain a / dwindling warmth / in our casings— / it was a few nights ago but it always is / over exposed in your flood light // I am always drowning / washed out and confused in your pew / (a sinner) / in the hands of an angry lover
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