Some mornings I put on lipstick and stare in the mirror at the bright streak that’s swallowed my mouth. I like to open and close my lips, expose my teeth and check to make sure they’re still sharp enough to break your skin.
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Do you remember the caterpillar scene in Alice In Wonderland?
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Standing in the kitchen of the home I owned and shared with my husband and partner of fifteen years, I found myself vaguely thinking of the way the glass in my childhood bedroom had looked as the contents inside festered over the course of days, and then weeks.
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