Saddened Squirrel
she writes
like her wings
are dipped
in purgatory
hot water
and she is grounded
and broken
because of him
him, him, him
to her
how, how, how
he's met
every overture
every response
with bit lips
and olive branches
yet, yet, yet
she seems to think
like
he's the enemy
where he
would give anything
to be her
friend, friend, friend
you've heard this before
this isn't foreign
mater of fact
your wings are dipped
in angel's dust
you soar...
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