Sold.
Old gold, left here to
Rot it's holes in my
Skin so thin, so
Rough.
These little peaches, they're wonderfully sweet but I just can't eat them.
Peeling the skin off, I find a translucent bruised part that reminds me
Winged memory brushes just too close
A glancing blow, at most
But still.
Hollow, naked and purpling eyes stare back from my own
Eyelids and I
Open them to break the contest.
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