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I am missing half of my soul.
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Bookmark Notes:
Oh ok
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Bookmark Notes:
[The man finishes me, stirs my insides like a stew and I wake in bed, drenched in sweat and gasping for air, feeling for holes in my flesh where there are none. Only a pair of identical birthmarks, one on my front and one on my back, that I have had since I was born. They are not scars, I tell myself. I have never been stabbed, never suffered that kind of agony except in my nightmares. Still, I do not sleep again after this dream.
But this is not the worst.
This is the worst:
This (golden hair catching the light, small fruits tossed gracefully into the air, a laughing mouth);
and this (long fingers caressing a lyre; those same fingers gentle on my face, his laughing mouth pressed to mine);
and this (sprawled out breathless side by side, hands clasping mine, clasping the promises that I want to believe he can keep).
These should be the good dreams, I think, empty as they are of tragedy or of bloodshed. These should be the good dreams, but I always wake from them in tears.]
why do i do this to myself?
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Bookmark Notes:
i think i searched for this, or maybe it just found me
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Bookmark Notes:
AAAAAAAAHHHHHHH
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Bookmark Notes:
this is so beautifully written oh my god