i know it's not how we wanted it, dear, but try your best to hide your fear.

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
uh. yeah. ..

Submitted: April 04, 2008

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Submitted: April 04, 2008

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the open door is closed,
the wilted flower-- a rose.
my heavy heart, so light,
your killer eyes, so bright.
a static embrace radiates warmth,
a painful excuse diffuses remorse.
fingertips graze the shore;
my dear is not mine, anymore.
sand turned red by the colors of night,
arms turned red by inflictions of fright.
the lock is broken, left unused.
the key, so rusted, waited for you.
and no one but me, will ever feel,
the pain taking over,
when the wounds won’t heal.


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