August, 2018

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Why’d I do it?

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    I did it because of the way the ink bled through the pages

    Because the half open door never ceased it’s taunting

    Because your shape was no longer imprinted on my bed

    Because my skin was crawling with the loss of your touch

    Because weeds began to sprout from my fingertips

    Because no one was there to stop me

 

I did it because I could

 

I didn’t do it.