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Edward Scissor Hand
By Jessika Malo
I’ll have to knead from my chronic sadness
a new set of hands
soft and delicate, to match yours in sensitivity.
My scissors graze through your lumpy curls
Hungry devouring skeletons of nostalgia
Every time I simply want to stroke your hair.
My wish is to sift out the scribbles of colored markers
off your hands.
Save them for the days of your drought
to remind you of who you are.
To hand-pick the moles on your skin
and glue them on my barren skies,
A directory to where the sun once was.
To clutch on to the few syllables of mercy
your voice mistakenly allows
and tie my whole weight to them
swinging back and forth, to the end of hope.
#Unreal #Poetry #Imagery #Unrequited #Love #Memory
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