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Consent

mixed signals in my

forearms racing tampering with

my pulse

this ache was born but dies with you i

wish i could explain

i'd never felt

my bones agree with anything but

sleep but when your

finger tips

almost

traced my lips they

screeched their bold consent

"let him in oh let him in

let him have what's left"

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Written by
emma-n-boyer
American
Published
Sep 25, 2017
Lines·Words
14·59
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