I want to cry most nights, as I lie here;
Imagine me: scattered simplicity
not stardust, restive as a single tear
upon a pale cheek beneath the sky
Clouds are stone grey with my surrendered rage:
so heavy on my mind. and at the heart
of broken dreams and each forgotten page
of memories that die each time I start...
And cry again, remembering the past,
that has not been replenished, since he went,
despite the lust-filled lovers, who would last
five minutes in my arms;
They call me: "cunt"
because they cannot ever match his mark,
but go, to leave me crying in the dark.
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