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bruises that belonged to Eve
wore them gracefully
only when she left the garden
Only when others had to see
covering up became necessary
clouds left in the garden
left with the fists that bruised those apples
left with the hair in those fists
clouds fade away to pristine fruit
held tenderly
Eve heard this from the clouds
she shed her dress and slithered back
purple now scarred
Left out of the garden
she cried tears of old blood
wore them gracefully
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