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Give birth to this creative energy or die
I am kneeling between contractions of fire and air,
talking to the sweet fabric of my dreams,
I whisper between my legs that everything will be okay.

My psychologist says that my little eyes are begging me for tenderness,
every time my tear ducts burn red
My body rests on the delirium of hearing my art breathe.

© 2019 por Morrita Majadera

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