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To Amberlee Carter's previous piece
falling short i remember now, how my dirty ideas stood on the threshold of your eyes and how you asked me to clean the words before you could let them inside. so i did, i washed the sentences with my tongue, licking them off like a mother beast does her new-born beastly child. my meanings, after all, belonged better out in the wild. you rebuked them for their sour flavor, saying how unfit they were for you to devour. never in my life had i regretted something so much, letting you come inside my mind to approve of the wall-paper. it was always your voice that i longed to hear praising my insignificant labor, and i wonder now if you understand how it murder me to watch your eyes roll in disgust as you said: 'this is blasphemy!' in reference to something i had titled 'love'