cured of love

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i'm half a world away now.

i don't think i like you anymore, because my head isn't consumed by the image of yours, and my heart isn't throbbing in marred pain. but my belly still rumbles lowly with an acheing sore, a pit that wants more.

so i cut my teeth on sugar- melting, melting. everything melting and blackening, charred oyster pearls rolling off cushion shell beds into the earth below the waterfall.

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