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Oct 2011
The warmth of her voice touched me like the hand of Juliet, and burn't me like her poisoned breath,
So who am I to give her lies, to take this terror away,
She's got poison and I'll drink my life away, a sip, a bottle, or a lake of drowning truth,
I've got my feet tied to bricks and I've been walking for years, it's above my head,
And this ocean just keeps adding pressure, where is this plain sun that leaves the shadows,
I could say goodbye, and wonder if you'd respond, like a shark to blood, or a tree to a simple breeze,
These ropes are like the sharpest blades, digging in and scraping off these uneventful thoughts,
And maybe a goodbye is out of place, just like these bricks under water,
When maybe in a few days, you'll see a pair of eyes mixed up with fish, a catch that wasn't caught.
Written by
Tristan Claude
931
 
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