Expunged upon each breath,
freezing accusations
sealed your lips,
and like a snare, retribution
closed its choking grip.
I had seen the flush of blush
upon each cheek,
when casual touch
lingered just a little too much,
for what is flirtation
but prelude to conquest,
with me a discarded after-thought.
Excuses like autumn leaves,
twisted in my maelstrom,
they were nothing
but a future medium
for growing better lies,
and I gather...
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