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Scott Mills Sep 2015
You tell me.. no. Such a simple word.
I am tethered, bound by regret and anger.
You are free, spirit and soul. I crave it.
Give me your freedom, please. I am lost.
Your voice is like the snap of smelling salts,
drawing me out from the succubial grasp of sleep.
I can be awake near you, I can stand to breathe when I'm with you.
You tell me no. You leave, and the clouds come back.
Repression has done them no kindness; they are darker. More angry.
Concentrated into a thunderstorm that will rock my mind for years to come.
You said No.

— The End —