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Lines Lying next to him- I adjusted my breathing so that I inhaled his breath. He filled my lungs, And saturated my blood. He flowed to my skin and made me blush. When I opened my veins, He took from me only what he had given- And then the cycle began again. And I foolishly trusted in the cycle. Believing it would always give back what I gave. But he took me and left- And now I'm nothing. Patiently waiting. For the life I had planned To be resurrected Or born again. But it's dead. And we are no longer circles, but independent finite lines.
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