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Cold War

Down and out, or better than ever, I can’t tell.

No matter where on Earth I am with you

I will wake up in cold sweats, panting

Because I can’t get this restlessness out of me.

Some days, I swear

In place of my blood there is kerosene.

My fingernails are growing yellow.

Skin equals ashes.

But I can’t tear the meat from my bones

If you’re busy loving it.

You and inferno are playing tug of war with my limbs

And if you win you’ll regret it.

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Written by
jenna-richardson
American
Published
Sep 25, 2013
Lines·Words
12·88
Permission

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