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Feb 2011
Cold wind blows from the lips I once kissed.
Only remnants remain of what could have been missed.
Frozen in fear from the words that you speak,
No more am I frigid.
No more am I weak.

I've reclaimed the flame that fuels me.
The true me.
The new me.
What is left of the old me.
What used to be, it ceased to be.
Severed are the ties that bound me from being free.
Sometimes you just need a pick-me-up.
Phil Midnight
Written by
Phil Midnight
698
   Rebecca Hartel
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