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Sep 2014 · 280
Untitled
Olivia Sep 2014
and as he cups
his slender fingers
around my small wrist
and leans in
for the slightest kiss
i can't help but pull away.
i am afraid of
the marks
he may leave
on my paper-thin skin;
"perpetual sin"
echoes faintly
inside the delicate
areas of my mind
that not even i
dare to visit
and i can smell
the wind
salted with the crisp
fragrance of light rain
and then i'm
running away
stringing the pieces
of my broken heart
behind me
like a deflated balloon.
**- o.a

— The End —