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If only there was an instrument to measure the sincerity of words,

We wouldn't have to hate
       words
                  love
                  ourselves -
                        .
           for having so many flaws
               Too many scars.
But there isn't, so we'll hate... and die. We just can't trust anymore, we can't love.
by the time
you realize
by the time
you care
by the time
it all clicks
and you want
me there
i'll be
very far
i didn't
wanna wait
by the time
you want me
it'll be
too late
Touch,
They call it 'lust'
I call it "intimacy"
she tosses her hands
     but shes still left with her head
she tosses that too
     but shes still left with her heart
she tosses her heart
     but it still hurts like hell
so she tosses herself
     and now there's nothing left
     to toss.
inspired by richard siken's "seaside improvisation"
to me,
you are
an art

                              to you,
                              I was
                              a tragedy
you still remain, and will always be
a fine piece of art
to me.
// edit: thank you for having this in the daily. ♡
Every sip I take
Every bad choice I make
Nothing makes me forget
That every single time
..
I break
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