Tuesday, October 28, 2014


Like the thief you are; stealing cigarettes from my mouth when I'm not looking was your specialty and I was your shop-lifting spree from that moment until I wasn't holding back on being your most prized possession. But when you were away, I stole rough mattresses in rooms that stank of piss and smoke, buried words you left ashen on my stomach, stashed each sunlight that slipped through window-cracks on days that reflected your smile in my eyes.
I learned from the very best for I snuck up, every night behind your head to whisper sweet dreams of redemption with a combination of shadow language and your favorite instruments.

You don't wake up until I say so.

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