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Native Tongue

The only way I know

is to bring you closer

And tell you “no”

In my native tongue

Thoughts that partner to plausible play on positions

My mind made of bells and chimes

Metallic in memory

Sounds and silence between each collision

Let’s roll into motion

And stand still amongst the movement

Amongst the momentum

Left shoulder to a tightness upon turning

A borrowed breath from the guts of reflection

Barely benign

This is the strum that goes straight to my core.

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