Etched
Etched into her
All those little things he said.
The words come back again and again.
Soaked into her,
Pressed between her pages
Like dried flowers.
Stained by his touch,
His ink bleeds through her veins.
Sweet and sublime,
The words rumble around.
She turns them around,
She turns them away.
It never turned real
But her blood runs warm
At the thought of him still.
Her one that got away.
Her one that could never stay.
2003
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