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Scummy Puddles
Beaten
Smashed
Kicked
And splashed
Out into the street
Like dirty bathwater
Nothing more than a filthy puddle
Rising over the curb
Flooding the sidewalk cracks
Eager for evaporation
Every hair
Is On end
Every pore
At attention
Yearning skin
Is stretching for a touch
That never existed
Pulled
Like the blankets
Of children
Over worried heads
Attempting
Their Satisfying seclusion
For when there is no direction
Passion is formless
And love loses shape
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