She opens her hands,0 0 Read more
clenched for years
in a tight fist
like a new-born,
but these fists hold no secrets
of a mother’s womb,
no innocence, or dreams freshly sown—
instead, their hardened skin bears
lacerations that come
from a hard grip
on a fugitive soul
sliding mercilessly
into the devil's pit
deep, deep
where she buried
old wounds
(c) Neetu M.
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She pushed the edge of legal in her hunt for priceless antiquities.
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