Title: Optional

Text: The ink is running toward the page, it's chasing off the days. Look back at both feet and that winding knee. I missed your skin when you were east; you clicked your heels and wished for me. Through playful lips made of yarn, that fragile Capricorn unraveled words like moths upon old scarves. I know the world's a broken bone, but melt your headaches call it home. Each paragraph will be a test.

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