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Harmonic Shivers
The heart is only an organ:
anthropomorphisation of the flesh
is just another lie
but
poetry doesn’t need truth:
My heart speaks to you
& my skin dreams of you.
Harmonic shivers* slither up my spine
whenever I remember the time we
spent together.
My fingertips have memories
of what we did to each other;
my liver is in mourning, my
veins keep flowing
as my spine
shivers.