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You Hurt Me

Sucked dry to a nonexistent-ghost pale,
you ripped a snag across my gray mind.
These stupid memories come back, scarlet.

A faded color, as myself, shouldn't bleed,
but I do never less.

Author notes

I form my poetry by using messed up figurative
language and a few of my own thoughts to redo a few things.

 

"Fading colors don't bleed,"

 

This isn't even about me or personal anythings.

Just what I've been thinking in my sleep.

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