Feather Fingers

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Pull me softly by what’s left of my absence.
Triggering emotions, shooting chills into my bloodstream.
Drying the purity away from my tortured soul.

Should I let the silence within..
Starve my heart to death,
Let it crush me beautifully,
Let it breathe me away.

Shy hands linger in the night,
Exhausted with disgust
Longing swelling in between black lungs
And a stinging ache slipping through slimy fingers
Clawed deep in fragile throats.

Eat out the spare pieces
Or drown in my silent despair.
You won, I hate myself.





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blackamethyst said...
Jun. 21, 2009 at 3:24 pm
wow. I'm impressed.
 
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