My molars ache when I'm sad,
I want to rip them out. I never want to say I love you again. Anger management with vines that leave me red. Wine poured only to waste time, Ninety degrees with goosebumps on my arms. Please don't leave, just go.
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Author's note:Hi, I'm Helen. Welcome to Lifted ~ I write to lift myself up. Archives
June 2021
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