July 21, 2011
I pour buckets of lost mirth and forgotten devotions over my parched self, but even so I can’t seem to find warmth in your kisses, truth in your words…
So instead I bury myself into the seashell that houses the betrayed, and when you scamper by on your puppet legs, calling my name, I swallow the sea spray that drowns this misery, the endurance that ends this child’s play.

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