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hurricane girl
her eyes could test you in ways those storms never could, not dark blue but lost in lightning strikes in isolated cities, isolated hearts
she'd never admit she was thin enough to break under his fingertips, vice like grasps and too many sides to figure this out, to realize he was pseudo industrial metal rusting under her carved oceans and small grooves across her ribs like tiny seashells washed up, products of erosion
she'd never measure up to the ways lines were scattered across her legs, dangling off of edges, too wise beyond the angles of her profile, but she was shallow to them, see through, not independent, her curves masking the way she tossed riddles in her head like solemn notes from a thrift store jacket
she was worn, and now worn away, jaded through sharp nails and cynical laughs echoing off of harbors she hadn't imposed desolation upon yet
and she never will
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