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You the Wicked

Well, I sleep the nights to myself.
This existence is nothing without you.
This moral coil may as well be dust,
You be the ashes to my smoke,
Isn’t that the same thing?
No, one lives on-
The other ki/lls the first.
I be the (silent) blight.
It -stalks- you in the hour of sun
down.
This green lady of envy tore you a/p/art,
Caught me in its web.
They call me the wicked witch,
But it is you who were the cruel.

Style / type: 
Free verse
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Liked to use punctuation like you have here. The trap of a worn out, stale relationship…. How full of angst.

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