This won't be the last you'll hear from me: it's just the
start.
I hope that he keeps you up for weeks like you did to me.
I will hold a candle up to you to singe your skin.
Brace yourself: I'm bent with bitterness.
When your apologies fail to ring true,
So slick with that sarcastic slew
Of phrases like I thought you knew
While keeping me in hot pursuit.
Tracing the plot finds skin touching skin,
Absence follows.
In the end, I win every time as ink remains.
Sour tastes prevail as you play back the tape machine.
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