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Soup Is One Form of Salt Water
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poppyromanov
I am making borscht           please do not laugh at me

I seem to have ruined my soul           the quality of

television programming grows stronger all the time

soon we will live in the ocean           we will all return

to the ocean           my hands are bright pink           like I

have been applauding you for hours           my love for

you is louder than I know           I saw a show last night

there were four thousand brides left in Iceland           I

was laughing           but it was not funny           the brides

looked embarrassed      and cold           I must not wash

anywhere but a tidepool           I must use a starfish to

scrub at my hands           I am writing this to say           I am

not leaving you forever           I am going to get better

and then I’ll come home