writing

poem: cruel hearts

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heart marching like a soldier in the cold, battlefield on full alarm
you can almost make out the butterflies escaping my breath
as I fall into the slumber of love’s forgotten ashes

the mind is a broken child, pacing through the streets
looking for a bottle to hold, a menthol cigarette to smoke
love of your entire life walks by your living corpse
tasting your silver lined tears in his mouth
like a metal detector onĀ full speed

I can feel your cold hands,
it’s a miracle you can breathe
cruel hearts usually freezeĀ to death

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