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maybe there is no other way to say it. maybe these words will fall off my lips like the honey that drips from the container that fell when you pushed it aside to pull me onto the counter. you remember those kisses on that counter. where the honey dripped. and my body shakes because my thoat wont work and my voice wont speak. you cant hear my pain. you dont need to hear my pain. dont be sorry baby...
Tags:
depression
short story

http://webuildfire.livejournal.com/26188.html
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Published: 7 months ago (Tue, 16 Dec 2008 00:20:56 PST); 2642 bytes
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