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Updated on August 2, 2017

Fill my lungs with deceit
and pain
and the love that you never gave me
for you were never the filter
you have always been the flame
and the smoke, your hands -
confining, Suffocating.
Remember the rusted, old bench
that witnessed our vows,
our lies?
That same rusted, old bench
where you left me hanging
mocks me
as the salt from my eyes dry
on the papers
that I will burn.
Slowly I breath in
my memories of you, Jacob.
As I burn the letters
I wrote
but never sent you.
Darling, weren't you the one who taught me to smoke
to breath
to lie
and to die repeatedly?
Because the more I breath you in,
the more I lose parts of me.

© 2017 Longmire


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