Time to go. Back inside.
Away from all the pretty
flowers. Away from seaside
walks. Sheltered from scented
candles, whispered promises of
"I love you". Promises. Promises;
stupid fucking tokens from shaking
hearts, selfish tongues licking
selfish lips revealing razor teeth.
Memories ooze and expose the
dirty scab love once opened over
that slick spot of dementia.
Another flower opened by another
drooling mouth, one more lie like
the yawning maw of a great white killer.
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