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SHARP EDGES


Sweat and dust,

Beaches filled with stars and skin that smells like sun

Orange peels and burning soles

Tripping on sharp edges


Pulp down you chin, don’t apologize

Dirt is good, you know that I touch with tainted fingers.


Crisp light and soft sheets

Wet locks, washing detergent.


Start again move on go further

dance with swollen feet and heavy lungs

Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop.

ASTRA WAHLLÖF OLANDER ©