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Poetry

My Last Doll

because a human heart can only hold a love
as much as was felt through the childhood eyes

vanilla and ylang ylang are airing from my bathtub
still within we breathe the old things still
i am a sensitive night of lanterns
pulling myself over the furniture where shadows
have spread their bodies over fragile memories
& innocence
in then of then is now
of now even the smallest part
of myself i can’t separate

dear lucia: you were my last doll

the one i still hold whole in my hands
because how can hands ever forget
the tender hope that once perfumed them

here is where i take him
behind my breasts
here is where he takes me
(blood way)
without hands
take me
this gift of mine
this gentle female heart
of mine
this mine
this ours

this ours

& this love between us
never changes

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by lkourteva

Having lived across three continents, Lubomira is a Canadian writer, poetess, humanitarian and founder of "Art of Love" where she writes and teaches on relationships, intimacy, wellness, mysticism, folklore, and intuitive and spiritual development. She is also the author of poetry books "Moonhold" (2019) and "The God-like Things" (2021). Most recently she was published on The Poetry Question Journal, and has been a contributing writer to Thought Catalog, Sivana East and Elephant Journal.


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