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Your word kills me more than this knife pierced in my chest I was your saviour And you are the death of me. Here is our story: The beginning still plays on my head The images are vivid and alive You are the one that needs saving, Lying naked on the street at a cold winter night I was a passerby who got a glimpse of the homeless child Our eyes met, just like that And we became meant to be Both wearing their birthday suits In a home built for two The love burning like a wildfire As two bodies intertwine Pushing each others limit In every passing hour, You go rougher each time you are inside me And always finish before me Leaving me craving for more every **** ******* time What happened next was a disaster not worth telling So, let us end it here and not open old wounds You must go in your own way And I on my own
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Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
A Stupid Story
Your word kills me more than this knife pierced in my chest I was your saviour And you are the death of me. Here is our story: The beginning still plays on my head The images are vivid and alive You are the one that needs saving, Lying naked on the street at a cold winter night I was a passerby who got a glimpse of the homeless child Our eyes met, just like that And we became meant to be Both wearing their birthday suits In a home built for two The love burning like a wildfire As two bodies intertwine Pushing each others limit In every passing hour, You go rougher each time you are inside me And always finish before me Leaving me craving for more every **** ******* time What happened next was a disaster not worth telling So, let us end it here and not open old wounds You must go in your own way And I on my own
An old poem that I decided to finish. Not that I really care.
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Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
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