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Nov 2013
I see my resolve like wax to fire.

I will be the phoenix from the ash.
I will not grant them my laboured breath in anxiety,
only pleasure.
You may have bruises, but only on my skin.
I smack
I choke.

Keep your hands off my heart.

Although I know that I would wear it like a black eye, shining, if only I had the belief.
Give me a something to chainmail my smile.
Only arrows can get in.
And only those with the intention to aim true
Written by
greyweather  England
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