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Tags: mourning
sometimes there is an end


your hands caress and pull,

showing me the power 

of my feral desire for you.

I beg you to fuck me, 

to burn me alive,

to melt my boundary walls, 

to make me the thing you would choose.

as your body enters mine

and your mouth takes 

all there is of me,

I feel my life drain away

to be replaced 

by some unknown numbness.

oh, the pump will continue to beat 

and a voice that sounds like mine 

will speak all the expected niceties.

my body will run after you

to request the costly passion you exact.

but my heart,

my heart will have ceased

to be more than a machine

because there is no love to warm it....

to nourish the living fire 

that tried so hard to be.

....

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