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i must be a masochist
January 19, 2016
He was never an old flame.
Flames die out.
He was a wildfire
that came raging,
torching every part of me without even touching.
I burned to the ground.
And by myself i grew back beautifully,
just to have him light me up again.
Love, he was not the sun that burned me
he was the earth that grew me.
© Katherine A., San Antonio, TX
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