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-
White, Stark, Asking for some kind of inperfection,
-
That hesitant look into the aftermath
Of something heavy,
Something prominent. -
Sweeping accusations
Caress
The still, broken air,
That diminishing sound
Of smothe -
Emptiness
That can never fill the void
Created when you left.
The stinging pain
Like -
Slipping past unnoticed
Against a moving backdrop
Of happy happy faces -
I whittled love
Into that olive branch,
Offered it to you,
To take
As a gift,
A -
Merely an essence
Not even a trace
A lipstick memory
Upon salty tears -
A cold slap
Across your raw cheek
The force echoes -
Silent struggle
Blood
Against pale perfect skin -
Flesh leaking life
Crimson fingers raking your face
Penetrating
More than scraped my sk -
Your silky caress against my cheek,
Tracing where tears fell
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