You wrapped your face with papier-mâché and thought I wouldn’t get through.
But with a clip and a clop, a pluck, a plop, these kitty nails peeled off your face of two.
One side was caked in empty dreams, the other, blistered by poverty.
They are black cat moments–when at night, the full moon is lit white, and the sea is at its darkest run. blackcatwords.com
You wrapped your face with papier-mâché and thought I wouldn’t get through.
But with a clip and a clop, a pluck, a plop, these kitty nails peeled off your face of two.
One side was caked in empty dreams, the other, blistered by poverty.
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