Memory perfected at her coming -of-age;

Simple a-line dresses, red lipstick, black winged eyeliner.

Sometimes there is a fountain of sweet,

other times kicking stubborness.

I have my sharp pangs, my  heart through the

meat grinder-

while images, slides, of moments;

so many failures.

this heart cracks, twists in its remorse

at what a poor craftsperson I was.

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