Know nothing if not my spirit, fading. In the thick of smoke. Our sanity on

edge. My lips cut open like a wound feeble and deflated, along the wake of dissipated knots begging yours I bled. but

no longer. an intangible

twine,

 

Plucked out of my chest.

Sweet talking violin strings where

 

there was only silence

in our deathbed.

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