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you're peeling off like dead skin
flakes of your pre-existence
lying on me as i sleep
disturbing me in my dreams
your touch still in my mind
i can still feel a single finger
grazing along bare skin
but the figure is now far away
you're a stain on my blank canvas
just a mark on the paper
i'd like to say you mean nothing al all
but that'd just make me cry
you're just plaster on the wall
empty with a hole inside
you crumbled down and died again
but someday you'll be rebuilt