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this thing we call a heart
there is nothing
in this room but the pulse
of the candle flame
and your heart
trying to escape out of the
cage I forced it into
wrapping a fist around mine
squeezing
a pain wrought from angry love
is one too numb to be felt.
I could
never
deserve you.
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To love is to be vulnerable; Triumph is born out of struggle; We notice shadows most when they stand alone in the midst of overwhelming light.