Poem in which she is only able to whisper.

Poem in which
000000000000she is only able to whisper.
A moment is one circular road.

In which his face, edged with a good deal of the day,
clatters on my grief
00000000000000(too near to think).

Poem in which some things are crazily bleak –
concur, believe or say a piece.

Your flame still wears a hole in my thigh.
I dare not look.

Sophie Collins

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