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You become a handsome ruin in the hands of the glass God; an imprint of your presence on the coffee table makes more hurt than the sound of you almost putting your key in the door- the dangling of keys, the pins shifting like sands; I'm burning so bright now, I think I'll turn these sands of time to glass. You kissed me with such shards of love, the blood in the mouth is the only memory of you left.
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Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 2:51 PM UTC
Glass
You become a handsome ruin in the hands of the glass God; an imprint of your presence on the coffee table makes more hurt than the sound of you almost putting your key in the door- the dangling of keys, the pins shifting like sands; I'm burning so bright now, I think I'll turn these sands of time to glass. You kissed me with such shards of love, the blood in the mouth is the only memory of you left.
Culaccino: The mark left on a table by a moist glass. I want to be loved.
rained-on-parade
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Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 2:51 PM UTC
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