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I’ve tied my body to someone else’s for so long Sewn my hands to another’s back But now, I look down at the scars From ropes and staples and thread
I should have known better than to stare into your eyes for too long Or to read into your touch Now I sit here, pulling at strings But there is nothing to grab I thought, for a moment, that I might have you
My fist was closed. My breathing, hard. The frown line was there, sitting on my forehead, as I failed miserably, trying to hold onto something, that was just like thin air.
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