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the woman MAG
is alive.
skin smells of store bought soap,
citrus and lye shipped from london
tangled in her
hair. she breathes softly,
her lips remain a limp line,
yet you can see the life in her
eyes. she doesn’t interrupt,
words fall out gently
like carbon pushed out of your
lungs. remember,
there are stories inside this woman,
treasured moments forever engraved in her
mind. waves from the seas
she wants to travel wash over the globe,
coursing through her
veins. she makes aspirations accomplishments,
dreams about the stars,
yet forms a constellation of
bones. a jigsaw of
beauty and power and strength
that fit together to form the
woman.
Women are so much more than just alive.