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Sep 2013
your silence is a room where dead hearts beat
foreign lips devour me through a straw

I slash my wrists
and let it fall
drip by drip
the words I bleed
become the words
of my book

blue veins
blood red
spool ribbon
remnants of emotions
I could never bring myself to tell you.
arubybluebird
Written by
arubybluebird
410
   ---, --- and Lewis
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