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Waking day gives light to dusted ruins and powder that coats the lungs. The world is dry, water lines drop like heart rates among the rubble, she dreams of golden sunsets that do not leave her skin plastered with a sickly glo
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We died in those days
With fragrance of flowers and sweat on our skin,
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I divide like broken lips, Swollen and pressing with blood
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Quake like the creases in the sand
and watch me turn to grit
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I almost want to slip back into my old routine Pretending like nothing ever happened,
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I learned too soon that the world can be an evil place, that it is inhabited by things far worse than a child’s mind can comprehend.
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Cry out, from sunken cheeks
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When the world falls away into the darkness
at the edge of my fingertips and toes
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I’m hearing words that lay too real
beneath my pillowcase,
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I hide all day behind the curtains
Or until the shadows grow and touch my window,
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I wandered through And wondered who,
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And tonight I rocket through the universe At the thought of your touch on my skin;
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well, this is my ATTEMPT at writing a song, though unfortunately I don't really have any musical talent so it's never to be sung....outside
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Golden Summers seem faint, lost in the creases of bed sheets,
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The night air aches in your absence, it fogs around my mouth and sticks to the wet of my tongue,
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It’s a thousand stories and a thousand songs,
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There’s this taste in my mouth, bland, hot, loose on my tongue,
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I’m waist deep in candid frames, In moments that never last quite long enough
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You’ve taken all your photographs
So that you could one day see me back
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The world grows closer to my skin
touching, pricking, teasing at the surface,
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I can’t go on like this tonight, not with these countless flashbulb smiles
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Tongue against tongue,
You send a ripple through my skin
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I can’t open my eyes to this place, this clumsy card house one breath away from crumbling,
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I’ve known the silence of the world
and the heartache that can cling
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My (failed) attempt at rhyme
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He said , “You stand beneath the starlight
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I wonder if the gardens have all turned to ash
and taken refuge on the bodies of these strangers…
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But oh to call your name or hear you whisper mine
would kill me in layers of sweet misery and passion.
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don't take my thoughts so seriously,
you'll poke an eye out
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I turn in fluid movements,
like paint mixing with crystalline waters,
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The state of this room is so depressing, it grinds me down into the darkness
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Your words fall like snow,
bitter and cold
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