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The Blade
Every glance is a sharpened knife
aimed at a love getting harder to hide
my hand splays out, gripping your waist
the blade piercing flesh, desire misplaced
the urge to hold tighter never leaves
leaving me colder than fallen leaves
a body drained, its warmth set free,
bloodless, breathless—cut by need.
Copyright ©
Charlize Mundy
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