#1
The dirt on my fingers
grows intensely duller
the longer I stare at it.
The same goes for the pink skin
bound loosely around my bones.
It pains me
day after day to watch you
smile, and look away, smile,
look away, my insides still burning
with the itch to form words.
Then... I would like to say unexpectedly
the bell tolls...
off you go, halo and all.
(I'm left alone, with
nothing but pink skin
and dirt)
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