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Jul 2015
Be all my sins
And all my wishes
Wrapped in one.

Your cold hand
Warms itself on me.
My jaw falls
Into yours.

Nothing opens wide enough.
Hunger hates itself.
Eats away at itself unsatisfied.
Unsatisfiable.

And he’s holdin’ on,
O he’s holdin’on,
And his lies are ready to burn him.
Declan Mills
Written by
Declan Mills  Dublin
(Dublin)   
397
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