Drops on the window
Ice fills the
cracks of the sidewalk
the cracks in my hands.
The mud is soft
but cold.
I wear the mud
on my clothes
across my face
in my mouth.
I am a princess.
Disheveled--
Chagrined--
to the bone.
The worth of words
seduces and eludes me.
If alphbets tasted like crackers,
I'd eat them.
Up.
I'd eat them up.
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