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Nov 2010
your syllables once sprouted butterflies in my womb
and now those same letters off a strangers tongue have
manifested the monsters growing in my pit
layers retreating back to the moment i layed eyes on you
layers that have fallen away
and are rotting on my doorstep
your smile
but I must say
that little smirk
that still makes me forfit the flesh in my body
if only that and not all the rest
shackled in old rusty chains
I beg to dismiss myself
yet I cling to stay
dip your hands into me
please
midnight prague
Written by
midnight prague
496
 
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