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Jan 03, 2026
1 min read
  • Poetry

It's Nude

Her thoughts show, and she is art, just as I hope to become.
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It’s Nude

I feel taken away by this ride
ride called thoughts to take pride
it tracks over the crags of my mind
moulding me a transeunt neckline
turtlenecks and surplices alike
even when it’s a lukewarm shine
it’s but a common ride on a zipline
where I’m less clad, attractively right.