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all is fair

>> Friday, September 30, 2011



























dead words substitute 
for the pain that would not come
and you sit silently, a
limb, a star abandoned by air


a flower droops in the
shadow mourning the passing of
an unripened heart and
you strum your hair guiltlessly


winter is outside the
window, white is the color of
gloom, you pull down
the curtain as i lick my wounds


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