Broken Teeth Poem

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I am the girl with Chapped Lips and Broken Teeth. I watch sunlight bleed between the cracks in the sidewalk beneath my feet, and I wonder when I will be whole again. I am the girl with Bad Posture and Nothing to Lose. The paintbrushes, clamped between my knees, leave streaks of silver on my skin that I do not wish to wash away (canvases aren’t meant to stay blank). She is the girl with Daffodils in her Hair and Dismay in her Eyes. She is pulling up grass while playing with his heart like a harpsichord. He is the boy with Small Words and Large Intentions, tossing petals over his shoulder. He drowns in careful indulgence, in his hesitations. And still I am the girl with chapped lips and broken teeth, but why is this such a bad thing?

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