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Writings

in retrospect

6/18/2017

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​You had me drink
till I was pretty,
till I was easy
enough to hold.
I drank that poison
because you already had me.
 
You had me with eyes
like sunlight,
a smile melting chocolate
on the pavement.
I was a marionette,
an instrument, a guitar
you played and mastered.
 
But I borrowed you
in the dark;
a dimmed room.
I was still lost in those eyes
that never met mine.
You whispered
what I didn’t want to hear,
as if we were
the nothingness
that surrounded our bodies.
 
You painted the truth
like Vincent.
I was blinded though
by the beautiful brush strokes.
They sang of how
you held me
the way I felt.
 
But that was
too damn much. 
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    Madeline Livermore

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