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Gaps In My Teeth

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With a cold heart up my sleeve where the shadow lingered, choking my mind’s umbilical cord, cracking the porcelain of the dawn’s early night, trying to break the chain of gravity holding on to the stars—across the cheekbones of the moon. Holding steady as I smoke a cigarette, exhaling the flame of the living ghost inside my lungs—watching the escape, like a phantom, through the gaps in my teeth.

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