NextA Poem by Kristina Yoder
You feign,
she swoons she says when you say soon. Ego beckons she starts begging- turned around she begins descending as you get to your dissenting. Masks a plenty you make and hide behind wearing just the right one to win your prize. When unclosed wounds get too close- turn and run, find your next dose of smart girl sweet girl feign a special connection, girl. Because pain that deep, pain that great can always just be buried with a new date. Call me up don't be late.
© 2025 Kristina Yoder |
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Added on August 22, 2025 Last Updated on August 22, 2025 |

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