Killing Beauty

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I would touch the edge of his skin

just to feel his bones

and press against them

and break them

and mend them

until I was exhausted from trying to kill him

He would touch my cheek

with flaming hands

and beg me to stop

For he was trying not to cry

But I just laughed

at what he had done

at what he forgot

That he was still breathing

and I was still burning

And I was hysterical

because he had gone

and forgotten what I could never

That he was breathing

and I wanted him dead





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