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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Gothic · #1378475
Writing my ex to rest.
I asked "why me". I cut the thread keeping your lips together and waited. You didn't have an answer, or, at least not one you were willing to give. It was written on the inside of your skull, behind your eyes, just out of reach. Perhaps if I push my fingertips deeper, I can read those words like Braille. Sight is overrated.
© Copyright 2008 Marissa Macabre (marissamacabre at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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