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 m.p.n.b.
    I can fit anyone’s fantasy.
    bit my lip til it bleeds.
    say it again, say it slower,
    say it til my words slur
    and you want me anyway.
    you want me because there’s glitter
    in my hair, because the story
    you heard from across the party
    makes me seem exciting
    in a safe way, a way where
    you can’t really hurt me
    because I’m not really anything
    but a flash of color
    in a crowded room,
    the type of tattoo
    you peel off in the shower,
    a pair of wings perched
    on the shoulders of a mannequin
    with a mirror for a face.
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  • HOME
  • WINTER 2022 ISSUE
  • SUBMISSIONS
    • Submission Form
  • ABOUT
  • LITTLE BLACK BOOK
    • A NOTE FROM THE EDITORS
  • SHOP