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Sorry: From the Shoulder On Which You Cry

He fell too deep for me to follow suit

(Some-days I drink in the cornflower blue of his irises and

To-day I can pick out the weary, tasteless dregs of a friend who isn’t there.)

It’s half a lie, but the point is moot

(I want to steal the worried red of his lips, heal the teary red of his eyes, feel the grain of pale skin like sand,

I want to soothe the mark of the one who stripped him bare)

The longing howl of the owl’s hoot



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theatregirlThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
yesterday at 9:54 pm:
I really like this poem, and I can really relate. Keep writing,because, it is really really good.
 
nescaping replied...
today at 9:59 am :
Aw, thank you! :) I'm glad it's something you could relate to, though I wish it wasn't so sad.
 
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