poem -
April 3rd 2015, 04:40 AM
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I smell your hostility in the air
and though I cannot catch it because it diffuses in my hand
It takes up space
It become more dominant as I become more withdrawn
If only it was like poison ivy, I would rub it on my hands then touch you
It would depart from the tip of my finger
Arrive to the tip of yours and in an instant
You'd see the pink irritation
You'd feel the harshness of the rash
Too bad you cannot see my clenched teeth, my locked jaws, or my stomach fit to burst
You tell me to stop
And I want to stop too.
Kinda...
If anything I want you to stop first
Stop the torment
Stop the picking on me and I'll stop picking on my skin
Stop living inside of me
Tightening your grip
Till I gasp for air only to breathe your toxic once more
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