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I Should Have Never Told You
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Your eyes were a spectrum of passion that
I had never seen before.
They were reflecting pools that rippled with the cries of spring peepers
I had dreamt of hearing again.
They were the homes of soft velvet moss that
promised me the future didn’t exist.
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Your fingertips carved your sweet intentions into my upper thighs like lovers’ names
in the bark of an old weeping willow tree.Â
I could tell your gentle hands were searching for asylum.
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So, I let you take refuge in the crashing waves thatÂ
were my chaotic soul.
I let you salvage the wind of your own breath thatÂ
had been stolen from your lungs.Â
I let you reclaim the surging power you had been cravingÂ
since obsidian replaced your heart.
I let you set fire to the jungle I had spentÂ
my whole life nurturing.
I let you break down my mountains thatÂ
even God himself could not have created on the seventh day.
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Just so I could save your burning soul.
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But those same fragile, desperate eyes promised to raise a forest around me.Â
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