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May 2015
The essence of roses lingered
as the petals of her lips
and the thorns of her teeth,
scathing,
scratching my surface,
retracted like claws to a sheathe
as the cat behind her eyes
left no mark on my skin,
but tore the flesh apart
so no blood broke through
but its drowning flood
dyed the rose, and
the rose died
Sarah
Written by
Sarah
888
     Lior Gavra, chris and unknown
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