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by Melanie

i am locked in this artificial winter where the world is wet for days. late nights of rain spattering against windowpanes, the constant beat of tiny silver bells ringing in dissonance. this obscene display of thunder and lightning sends shockwaves through my memory; a storm reminiscent of clouded glass illuminated through flame, a chemical atmosphere that teases the addict i once was. and i hunger for you and the way you could build me up so, so high in a serenade of smoke. but i remember the consequences of my submission; an aftermath of ink-stained fingertips, blood-stained flesh, and an emptiness at my core. your deceptions are now crystal clear; the irony of such does not escape me. and so, this is my final supplication:

our affair is finished;

(there is nowhere you can take me now that i can't go without you.)


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