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May 2010
No more
In love
No more fallen
Rather falling
We are brushed finger tips
Waving goodbye
Air stuck
Tight lipped
I feel sick
And tired
Raw flesh
And cut deep
Straight through
To already
Brittle and broken
And tripping
Over the
Falling sky.
Red eyes
Roll the dice
Snake eyes
And the next roll
Is in your hands.
Written by
Jacqe Booth
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