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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Death · #1722108
Inspired by a true story about my distant relative who was murdered by her husband.
Open hands flew over my face,
The sun was sent into streams of light,
All I could think was when will it be over?
And so I looked into the eyes of my father,
Those were the eyes that paralyzed me.
His rough hands fumbled with a match.
The full moon seemed to say, "I'm sorry..."
My last word was whispered the second before the fire engulfed me:
"Love."
It was what I never got.
What I always wanted.
What I had heard so much about.
And so it fell from my lips and kissed the moon,
Before an orange wave crashed over me, stealing away my single word with it,
Leaving behind only a distant light.
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