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Cat Fiske Jul 2016
my tongue soaks in the spit in my mouth like its bathing in acid,
everything begins to burn in my mouth,
but I haven't had anything but water,
and the casual biting of my stubby fingernails,
I feel a little less then dull compared to the angel with greasy hat hair,
my bangs never stood a chance next to her rolled out of bed attire,
I didn't have the grace to pull a look like that off,
or well any look it seemed like,
but he clearly liked her,
and I let him have her,
and I keep the tears inside,
until his silky hair boy and the plain looking girl were gone,
and I weeped damp wet tears,
and felt like every bit of me was as bitter as battery acid,

— The End —