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She Who Prick the tip of the Knife

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Casually, writing down poems
Laying on a hard foam
Can't Sleep, nor cry
On a friendship once warm, and now, dry
A song runs smoothly in my head
As I was writing this down in my bed
'The Apartment We Won't Share'
Like dreams, we once imagined, now washed by rushing tears

How cruel, to be comforted with a knife wrapped in silk
You hide vinegar in a bottle of wine but its sourness reeks
Grateful for the decades of genuine taste of love that I'll never regret
For the months of betrayal that ruin it, that will be forgiven but never forget

Two birds who flock with the same feather
How lovely to see your hair braided locked by a rotten mindset

Homily says 'Love thy enemy'
Though you have executed it perfectly
For you have beautifully presented yourselves
As if you haven't cried betrayal to a friend

She struggled to kiss the mouth that once cursed her
For it is better to learn how to write a poem in the language of your rival
Than to talk with grace and charm
Trying to persuade the conscience to justify harm

Let the time drive us nuts
To the moment we will embrace our rough touch
For this moment, let hatred fade
To a friend, supposed to be a foundation of strength
Now becomes a stone that wrecks your home

- ᜐᜈ᜔ᜆᜒ
2025.04.11

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