Melissa.

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Marvel in all my wonder. 
I don't know how, I've lost it. 
Though I reached for it heinously, viciously, it outreached me. 
 
The strings tear, and red streaks out in billowing sheets that flow. 
My heart. 
I almost needed you to know it, had to show you it, explain it, like a problem. 
That the meticulous work and profound function stemmed from your bones, the sliver of your soul in mine. 
 
You wouldn't have it. 
 
You sat me down,
And stuffed big words in my mouth, ones I couldn't even pronounce. 
Put me in time out, and I've never left it. 
Not for one year, not two, not four, not even seven. 
 
I looked out, and saw the sun, 
And so I threw love and green sheets when I knew you needed it, when I knew that we had matching hair and attitudes.
It gave me comfort. 
But the money was slimy, and my stress made me weak. 
Words thrown, hands move, teeth spit, We cry. 
 
And still, I flocked to you in need. 
 
Laid my tongue with promise, unfiltered pride, the remorse that stung me. 
To ask, to be denied. 
My tongue reached for it this time, and still it outreached me. 
It outreached. 
Pranced around me, and away from me, the ever eluding. 
 
It, so precious, and I couldn't have it. 
Because you did, and kept it to yourself. 
But I glimpsed it, over and again. 
 
Then a man came, and he said,
"Let me give you my own, my life, my blood, myself"
And I saw it again, locked away this time. 
He had it, and in turn, you. 
 
And where was I?
 
My walls were flowers, delicate and decaying, just like the ones he stuffed your hearth with. 
My money was molding, and infamous. 
My hair was burnt, and I suddenly
Had only lies to tell for you. 
 
Infamous. 
I was nothing but a walking sack of skin to you, 
Who could only say, in the end, 
"Sorry."

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