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TO LOVE BEING A TEENAGE GIRL by Alexia Sextou She melts red on her letters dyes her lips cherry so she can taste the burnt paper. The aftertaste of cheap soda. Her nails screech on broken vinyls who cry for dead lovers and absent fathers The candle burns as she dances to a beaten fire rips her skin Peeling her soul and eyebrows How nice it would be to be burnt alive. By Argyro Kotziagkiaouridou
