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Never able.
Just severing cords stretched from hand to heart.
Fill your eyes with as much as they'll hold.
Slowly steeping.
Pushing through the floor.
Burning bridges with black ink.
Clean slates reflect you.
Reflect it all.
From threat to throat.
Fit to start.
You burned up inside and wondered if your eyes would ever fill up on their own.
And now you pull every stitch that you sow.
