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Writer's picturePepa Peeters

vandalism

however, this love you seem to claim

was never really yours to take;

you tugged and you pulled

until all my broken love spilt out

staining the concrete red.


like forcing a sleeping bag back

into its bag, but with no arms,

no one there,

i tried to stuff it back inside of me.

it was never meant to be

forced out like that,

mangled and spoilt in the process,

then dumped, barren, onto the floor.


i could shout and yell and scream

until my lungs dry up,

but why would i even try knowing your back will be turned to me

like a serrated wall,

before the first furious syllable

leaves the lips you left behind.



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