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 May 2015 A Watoot
epictails
In spite of my tears and the nagging hurt in my chest,
I write—in a fragile paper, perhaps
Hoping against all hopes that the words could save me
therapy
I held her close
her lips touched my neck
bite marks are left
but I felt something slipping away
but what I then didn't know
It wasn't her hand that slipped away
it was my beat
that was slowly fading
as I fell
in darkness
alone

*slipping away...
One angel can  **** your spirit
They aren't all as sweet as sugar
Some are like a poisionous apple
I
Heal
Very
Slowly
And
My
Heart
Heals
Slower
Still
Copyright © JLB
11/05/2015
00:07 BST
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