flowers on my skin [ poetry ]

sharp

don't give her a razor when knives are the sharpest thing she knows

she has yet to meet her nemesis- words

words that slice, slither and poison every cell and every pore of his body

words that cut, stab and strangle the breath in his lungs

she doesn't know the power of the alphabet
an untimely disguise of whatever she paints on her blank canvas

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