- Yaira Ebanks
- Jan 15, 2025
- 1 min read
no me tortures
all the while the torture is my head
my body, hell even my heart
twenty four hours no word
in poetry that is years apart
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See Allmy eyes swell for the ones who nudge me into journaling encourage my Spanish champion my strength strangers sending love, kindness without demand, filling my life with brightness sprinkling magic into
there are songs I sing while smiling my first book I wrote hands trembling eyes crying
spicy and sweet pink softens the kink
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