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rgz Jan 2020
the taste of love
a bruise on your tongue
fading fast
made not to last

the sound of hearts
as they crash and burn
fall so quickly
ticking sickly

a look so silky
it can't be returned
a touch of sin
lost to the wind

etched into skin
a blank page, unturned
inked on a whim
just as sure to be burned
sure as the sky looks blue

— The End —