I took you in last night. Drank you and reminisced as the cool liquid coated my throat, flowing through me like memories hanging on a cool Fall breeze. It burns to drink. It burns to think. You seep through my vanes. I sweat you through my pours.
No matter the pain, I come back for more. Like a child, touching a hot stove. I call you come. You pick me up again, with all of my jagged edges. No matter the pain, you cut yourself again, trusting that I won't scar but I always do.
If I see the poison on the table, next to the dagger, will I pick it up and drink it slowly? Will you grab the dagger and cut yourself, knowing of the cuts, bruises, scars. Will we lay there together, hand in hand. Heart in hands. Prepared for the pain, expecting it, wanting it. Our hearts slow, and we drift off, together, forever.
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