His love is painful,
like a chilly winter's lip.
His love is rejecting
for the way it burns my skin.
And the convulsions for affection,
and the dead leather beat jacket.
And his frozen pupils
have torn down my soul.
And the inorganic sound
of his fingers
and the way he touches my lips.
And the fallen that have begged for mercy
to retrieve but your love again.
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