X Marks The Spot

By Unknown - May 18, 2018

My cable knit sweater sleeves mask my history,
My body a map of places I've been and will be.
My mind a haven where wild things go,
My heart an uproarious sea.
My hips, a siren-like call to flee
before the x-marks-the-spot is seen.
My lips, a lingering warning to all
That there is no treasure in me.

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