Mother me until my insides bleed out a sea of warmth.
Utter nonsense that strings through the air and creates a dialogue of langue.
Seize the opportunity to care for me tenderly, unconventionally, unintentionally, infinitely…
Eternally, internally twist my insides so that I become a thread, wrapped around your finger –
warped around your linger. Stay.

A poem by Shayla Hickerson

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