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In Your Hand

What is in your hand
so sharp and cold
cutting the delicate buttons off my blouse
you thrust it in me slow
welling seamless tears
you stare like a carcass ever so
retching in unfathomable pain
I gracefully sink slow
my love
what is this
I cannot conceive
don’t be  the thief
raping my fairytale in disbelief
sticking your knife in my gut
you ripped the very life and innocence I had once possessed
My love, my knight
one whom I loved and dreamed with
why are you so cold
what
is in
your
hand

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