i'm not trying to show maturity.
looking now i’m perplexed at how you got to me.
how you left me with wet raw eyes and bite marks deep in my knees.
each night as i slipped into sleep.
looking back now it’s impossible to ignore,
all the lines you fed, a script to allure.
near the head of my bed, in the bottom of a drawer.
i’ve got pages of paper, stained with your gore.
left me with a conclusion, sorry but there's nothing left to beg for.
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