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Cliche
Your name,
spoils my thoughts like one too many sips of wine.
Your voice,
chaffs my skin leaving small cuts of your words inside me.
I chased you,
for so long the soles of my feet are as soulless as your love.
When we first met.
Your name,
Supplied me with the perfect amount of tipsy.
Your voice,
grew on me naturally,
slipping through the cracks of my ear drums soothing my future thoughts of you.
I chased you,
in the same circle you chase the tale ends on my sentences,
anxious for my next.
When you moved in.
Your name,
was a constant force on my cell phone,
your voice,
was only soft in the dark,
I chased you,
off the steps of the porch, one to many times.
When I came home on Monday.
Your name,
was announced third on my answering machine.
Your voice,
was cold, fresh like a new day. "Im leaving you."
I didn't chase you.
the souls of feet already hurt to much.
I poured myself that glass of wine,
and replayed the voicemail until our memories were vacant.
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