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Kyra Sep 6
Where do I end
and you begin?
The very fibre of you
is woven into the fabric of me.
You move like velvet
in a world of lead.
You’re the water
under ice,
moving but not quite.
But one thing is for certain;
when you move
I move.
Oh I don’t know
Kyra Aug 1
Between the lines
of now and then,
you’re drawing me
with ink and pen.
Every ridge
and every curve
you’re carving out
what I deserve.
Tangled veins
and knotted hair,
a thunderstorm
of senseless care.
Between the breaths
of God and man-
You’re writing me
just as I am.
With fractured bones
and black-hole eyes,
painted purple,
ringed with lies.
All I am
is what you see
and what you make
is all I’ll be.
Kyra Jul 31
I remember the feeling
on that infinite day,
you were a beacon of light
in a collage of grey.
You reduced me down
to a deluge of dust.
You tore at my at seams
and played with my trust.
You rung out my mind
and hung it to dry,
on the line in your garden
in the heat of your sigh.
Your blackened pupils
put full stops in my breath.
And if you were the gun
then I welcomed death.

— The End —