icicles

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we keep melting like
icicles
but we put out armour back on
and re-freeze
daily

we open ourselves up to love
we become vulnerable again;
and for what?

only to become broken hearted
all over again?

if only true love existed
and you find your
"match made in heaven"

but alas
the hell is a land
amonsgt the living
so i suppose you must die
before you find
your perfect puddle.

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