Placing real life stories
In fictional settings
Is almost as fun as telling the truth
So forgive me love
For my servant’s heart
I’m a little like Mary and a bit like Ruth.
I carve the breath in my lungs
Shaping the words I want to say to you
Each one is detailed craftsmanship
But all are see-through.
I can hold each letter but you’re too numb to feel the syllables
By now you should know better than to expect the unpredictable
Love keeps slipping from my lips
Like the silk dress from my shoulders
Warmth is in my fingertips
But my eyes grow colder
I never thought this would be us
Growing bitter, growing older
I thought that we had all we needed
I thought that we were golden.
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