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the end

8 april, 2008

your cheeks are wet
your tears are dried salt
this is where it starts
your voice fades
with ambient shades of hate

you reach for me
your fingers are miles away
this is where it starts
your grip tightens
and then the razor cuts

your whisper is cold
your breath blows out candles
this is where it starts
your scream grows
with a clear freezing voice

you curse our future
your thoughts balance a blade
this is where it starts
your black dress
and my six foot grave

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