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Oct 2015
sleepless embraces
silent
defacing
our wilted ends and tenderness.
privately crying,
quiet, applying
blush
on putrescence.
murmurring,
murmurring
'you are mine.'
pining,
dying,
hushing lust.
rabidly dabbling in fragile fantasies,  
huffing tar stuff borrowed from tomorrow!
shush.
please.
these feeble obscenities eat me to sleep:
you wear me down like a river
but i don't get smoother
i just get thinner
The Knave of Spades
Written by
The Knave of Spades  Issaquah, WA
(Issaquah, WA)   
675
   --- and Sandman
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