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Lemonade
“I want to paint the sky with the colours of your smile,”
I whisper as you turn away
not the first time, nor the last.
I reach out for your sleeves
you etch away
like the darkness surrounding a match
eyes forever training
on another
I dig deep into my chest
till my fingers find the red ball
that goes ba bump ba bump
when I look at you
It lays on my palms
my arms outstretch,
“take it” I plea.
You turn away
this time, the last time
Tears well in my eyes,
the fruit in my hands sour
as I pry it apart,
it stings the scars on my fingers
as I squeeze out the juice
There’s now an empty shell
a dead soul
and a jar of lemonade
Cheers, Stupid Girl
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