As for the kiss, I had left
my mouth already and all the words
I had ever spoken
floated like green glass bottles
on the shoreline of your world,
the world I was leaving.
You were right to be afraid.
But not of death or the smell of death
or the gaunt and strange face
I had become. You loved me
more than you could
bear if you had come any closer.
-
Issue 74
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Editor's Note
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POETRY
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FICTION
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OTHER