F.

Mary stole my sweater

the holey sweater with the 

Delicate stars

I still remember it 

Being softly touched

By her fingers

And I told her

This

You are touching it too softly

As I regularly said my thoughts

And she was my regular person

she still looked at me

Bewildered

Red and wild 

Her cheeks became possums

Luring

Roses

ingots

Because she glittered

Like a carrot in the mud

and I 

Well just I

But

She

The careful thing

would always not take 

What I give

Myself

As her big blue eyes

Became pout 

And wet

And clumsy

With the tears 

That I have not made peace

With

She broke them

Allowingly 

As I consoled her

Without thought

Without meaning

As the sweater became a flesh

That got swept away

from my hold

To her hands

That were open.




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