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Rated: · Poetry · Other · #1259395
The lasting effects of selfish swallows.
In desolate alleyways, locked from where even the most emptied of souls never ventured I leave my voice lay out so cold against the brick layered walls blocking me into something secret. All so sweetly and bitter, spinning in against the wind I never felt more out of touch, and I never want to feel again. And cold and calloused lying here, as the sentimental values of nothing continue to run off my lips like broken records skipping on my favorite part. I feel bliss in lacing my revenge upon you. I won't make excuses and perhaps if you'd have taken the same stance? How stoic I stand; stone faced and concrete in my every glance. More to prevent the world from reaching me, I'll only let down my guard when no one's watching. You'll never see me from here. There’s safety here, security in its most abrasive way. The only tempting sensation is to leave you a letter, a formal address of closure, with all the reasoning’s you've obviously skipped over. And forcing you to swallow the pill of truth, but it's so much easier to just leave the notion unfulfilled. You've taken enough as is anyway.
© Copyright 2007 C. R. Bartley (anendtoconfer at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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