Bleeding Passion Staring through blurry air, dark around me, protecting me from the painful truth, so visible in the light, curtains drawn, doors locked, no other sound but quiet sobs and shaky breathing, sense the passion bleeding down my face, searing hot paths of hatred and sorrow, ebbing momentarily, just to come again in a raging flood of pain, wanting to stop, but needing this release, wanting to be held, but striving to remain alone, torment within gripping me tight, not letting go, hurting may ease, but never fade. |
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