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Rated: E · Poetry · Writing · #1105818
what can I say
Wicked

your eyes

your lies

my back cold against the ground that I'm pressed against with no rest in sight

I'll close my eyes and try again but what's the point

you and I both know the outcome that awaits when I awake from this nightmare that you keep dreaming

dreaming just for me

wicked

sometimes I forget just how thoughtful you can be

but that's just me, I guess

wicked

everytime you brush against me a piece rubs off and for the life of me I have a tendency to find out just where it fits

the grande scheme of things is usually so lost on me so unlike the things that need be

me

you

so wicked you
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