Those were what I
called his words as they
lifted, from my knees, the
dangling sway of disappointment that
weights my arms, heavy. They, slipped
Beneath my drenched pits, chasing out the
stench and self-rejection, planting in them
flowers and the sweetest smell. His words
drew, again, etching into my blackened
caves, the understanding of
company. Such that lifts.
It leans close. Lips to the ears
of the red eyed regret;
and fills the empty
crevices with



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