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There was once a boy next door
I don't see him anymore
He would come over and we'd play with my dolls
He would read me stories and call me his little princess
One day we even made cookies together
He had these marks on his arms
I asked him what they were
His face turned red and he turned around
He said that I would understand when I grew up
Now he never comes to play
I went to his door the other day
And asked his mother why he went away
She just collapsed to the floor and wept
She said that he had left
This world had been too cruel
Heaven had stolen him
And he liked it so much that now he played with angels
I'm all grown up now and I know better
I have the marks on my arms to
And I know that I'll probably see him soon.
don’t you spark
the fire and
abandon me,
you abstraction
of insolent
soliloquy of
elegance; all
of existence
craves a taste
of your savory,
effortless
whimsicality;

i’ll sail upon
a thundercloud,
braid the stars
into my hair
and remunerate
for my flawed,
scarred skin,
scathed soul,
with mellow
eyelashes like
rain; macrocosms
look vain,
through a
night-owl’s eyes;

trust my lies
when you fancy
truth, a vile elusive
absolute; trust
my eyes when
you fancy cold
decimation of
love and gold;

the morse code:
remains of your
melodramatic memory;
never look away
from me; i’ll fix
you like a broken
puppy toy, scuttle
across the bedroom
floor with agonizing
apathy, stay forever
and always with me
with your binary love,
you trivial, perfect machine.

— The End —