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Dear Momma
Chloe A., Santee, CA

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By Alexandra S., Napa, CA

It flushes out your throat
Drowning out the lump of guilt that lodges itself in you
A burning hole in the back of my chest
Eating away at my flesh
Flaking away and blowing to the wind,
The pieces of me that are you
Inhaling and holding your breath
Waiting for the smoke to fill your lungs
Waiting
Waiting for oblivion
You don’t know what you want
You will never know what I want
I want the shimmering night warmed with fire
I want the dishwasher clanking in the morning
I want what I will never have
I push it back
I shake it out of me
Blow it into the water
Laugh it off
Ignore the truth
But it’s there
The need, itching from the inside of my fingertips




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