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her ruins
stretched ***
could never turn me on
the stench
of
her hex



lasts till after dawn



figers strung out
from fake feelings
dumb
in
doubt
her lust
comes on
her
an
peeling

that she weaved
through
razor
blade
scares
it's
often hard to breathe



splinters like memories
all bare feet on deck
she peked on my
my
window

before she took
my breath

we could tell you another story
but now there is nothing left

but
her ruins


















stretched ***
?









...
..
.
pain
...
..
.

— The End —