Wounds left by the devil’s claws

I am squeezed between a rusted taxi window with scratch marks and loose rubber that belonged somewhere – Kinda like how I belonged to you- and a chubby coloured young woman. She has broad shoulders and sharp elbows. Passing over the Mandela bridge, I sit cramped up. The window does not open and my bunContinueContinue reading “Wounds left by the devil’s claws”

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