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2017-01-17 02:15:18 by MiNDxCLoUD

The perfect lines 

of her lips, that nose, a suggestion of

an air of 



each glance is a contusion

brusing the room, our eyes fixated

blood seeping into the room slowly, 

purpling others slight manners

--we didn't know true desire as she did

ever-consuming, stronger than beauty could ever afford

...the hurt she made didn't equal the pangs she felt herself.


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