Bitter Taste

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The taste of blood in my mouth was bitter.
A rush of iron and utter disregard.
A mouth full of red
was another night of stars,
enviable.
A night full of stars
another day of iron.
‘Please’
I’d beg off with not a word of remorse.
It became apparent
that the word please
didn’t apply to me.
Help became the next please,
but it was covered over by the red in my mouth.
Don’t became more
wish I got the memo before.
Stop wasn’t even an option,
stop was covered by a smile
that never left the face of another.
‘You want’ no
but that no was a key to something more.
A no, a yes
to the face of another it was all the same.
Go






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