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Rated: · Poetry · Dark · #1492103

Losing and making it not seem so wrought with pain.

Nervous Tissue

Traces left like wrinkled clothes
Smears of lipstick - Tears of joy

The stains come out in the wash
How do we chase the memory?

When we face the tragedy
The broken pieces swept away

Time mends the deepest wounds
Standing here, I catch my breath

My running legs are weary
I'll catch you when you're ready
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