Rebelle Society

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Monica Torres

poetry

Her Spirit Runs Wild. {poetry}

There is no time to wish upon shooting stars For he loves me, he loves me not She plucks each and every petal with no worry of the thorns She would rather bleed and lick her paw than cower from danger Her spirit, once shackled, now runs wild She is feral and untamed

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poetry

Darling. {poetry}

I swallow the rest of my wine, and slide the lip-stained glass to the bartender I lean over and touch her arm as my matte black nails drag softly over her skin She turns her attention away from the poor sap who never stood a chance

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