

pretensedoes it burn when someone elses teeth graze her skin, with every forbidden or out-of-reach caress? does it travel straight to your heart and ignite the debris left there?pretense
does it ache when she cries on someone elses shoulders, with arms much safer and stronger around her? does it make you feel empathy or even shed a tear?
does it cause a slight discomfort when she doesn’t acknowledge you in the street, or even your very existence? does the bitterness show in her smile,
and disappear when she looks at him?
does it embarass you


unkept secretsso i’ll keep these lips sealed, from the mistakes that you made and turn all these thoughts into nothingness. wretchedness - i blame myself,unkept secrets
for all the things we never did and all the things i never said.
the scorn that reveals itself in your face is better than the blankness a little recognition is all it would take, but i won’t bruise myself for that.
all these things i want to say,
will stay locked in my mind;
communication has run dry, the truth is hard to find.


ACCESSORYspare a little thought in your quiet time; for those who graciously near your side.ACCESSORY
the blondes, the brunettes and the occasional red head who infiltrate your pride.
those who clash are rejected, some colours just won’t match your tie; those who heighten hidden pleasures are corrupted by your eyes.
take a little pity, on those whose mascara you smudge, another one for the bedpost,
these girls never amount to much.
with a callousness so deceiving, you prey upon them all, compliments roll off your tongue; flattery make


product of his amusementrip my stockings and make me yell curse you for this bitter hell you've put me through. every mistake i make is due to you. screaming torture in my mind the deepest scars oblivious to the blind. no-one can bring back what you stole only pull me further out of this hole you made for me.product of his amusement
to bury my body and sanity before you leave, couldn't you have given my heart time to grieve before you stole another? months of scratching at invisible stitches while being dismembered by younger bitches- whose hair i would have loved to defile, if only to block their ca
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