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My Dear
February 21, 2016
You order your coffee black
Brewing dark like your eyes.
Lips, harsh among the form
of your words.
Pressing delicate kisses along
the soft of my skin.
Hands, built to hurt everything,
intertwined carefully in mine.
Your heart mending and breaking
against my attempted stitching.
My Dear, I am too good for you.
Don't hurt me, ever.
© Hilary R., Woodland Hills, CA
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Heartbreak always lead to the most beautiful work.