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Nov 2018
Is that what Love is?
Blood circling down a drain
Not shed from any impassioned blow, but
From the slow Invasion of my body by yours
Displacing my flesh for yours
So that if it all goes up in smoke (as it could- all too easily)
You will be etched onto my soul;
Incisions from which leak red bulbous drops
When I think of you.
Helena
Written by
Helena
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