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Oct 2013
I want to scrub
Every last one of his dead taste buds
From my mouth
A toothbrush slowly sharpening
Saw blade
Spit out the blood,
Mud, and toothpaste

I want to find
Every way there
Is to destroy myself
To live without ever breathing
Or seeing
Or being seen

I want you to know
My worst fear came true
I never was capable of loving you.
Ann Beaver
Written by
Ann Beaver
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