2.5.18

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My numb lips erase his name in a split, striking, intoxicated second.
He's gone from my mouth's long history, forever a forgotten piece of that horrible November night.
Arms loop around me, some familiar, some not.
I don't know what I'm doing and the thoughts just won't stop coming, but then again, does this ever stop? Is there ever any salvation from this hell?
Salvation didn't come in the form of a pretty girl's drunken lips because the second they were gone I immediately began to miss them.


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