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andy-blackwell
rubicon hangover sherbert lemon sunrise butterscotch ******* with an afterbirth smile pastiche or phantom beautiful proportion cutting mothers apron the circle of time location location circumnavigation stylised continuum great britain is a lie mass for the masses blood on the carpet thank you for not smoking its a marvel we're alive thirty thousand drowning thirty fathoms counting suffer little children not in my back garden slumber in a haven sleeping with forbidden waterfalls and gravestones selfish over soil war americana revolutionara helicopter complex compliment our ego nuclear disaster what use is a master fall out over fallout tinnitus and drones avalanche of feedback pentatonic ***** slap abstinent castrati carry me away shiver orchestration gentle fornication sexually vacant naturally vague
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May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
Untitled
Is this what it's like to be obsessed, With my chest still wet from your tears and your breath? Your face is the only thing I recollect Your relationship's failing and I watched you cry Your beauty eclipsing the red in your eyes Under a starless sky, I swear you did shine With your skin pressed to mine You shook as I held you and pulled on my shirt So I pulled you in closer, embracing your hurt You buried your face in my neck And I focused my eyes on the dirt Our friends asked if we kissed and, believe me, I wanted to But I couldn't help feeling guilty for wanting you For you are not mine to want, and I wish I was in his shoes But the leather is torn And my feet are too small I can't make them fit And I'm not fit for loving you Is this what it's like to be obsessed? I caught you as you fell, now I'm catching my breath I wish this was something that I could forget For your relationship's fixed, and I swore I wouldn't cry But your beauty's imprinted on the lids of my eyes And when I press them closed, I swear you still stilling I just wish that your light was still mine
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Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 6:35 AM UTC
Obsessed
Let not these weary eyes and weary minds take precedence The pretence of importance could fade to nothing once we rest Once we wake, heartache may slip away, And your face (while still as vibrant and as vital as when I kissed it last) Could fade too, If not in beauty or sincerity, then From a motivation to a memory
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Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 6:28 AM UTC
Untitled