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Feb 2018
It is the heart of me
that she does not
even bother to see,
a red bridge that breaks
collapsing into
a darker crimson pool,
I set this mess
before her,
expose my scars,
as I worship hers,
whisper gentle affections,
promise fierce protection,
but she turns away
unswayed by the fruits
of my heart,
and I turn away
forgetting the self-love
I struggled to attain
and succumb to
that old familiar pain.
Graff1980
Written by
Graff1980  43/M/Springfield Illinois
(43/M/Springfield Illinois)   
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