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  • Writer's pictureM.

Your lips

your lips pulling in

why do I wanna give in

fingers branches dead

my hands of dried dread

I push back,

"it's a mistake"

my soul to make

you mine, longing,

't would be so easy

can't explain

the stuff I keep you


Torture exported

to the far shore

to escape myself

as you bind me

(and yet you don't so well)

I could be anyone

out of the frame

and yet I keep

being pulled inside

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