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The Curve That to an Angle Turn'd
by maudlin of the Well

Trust lies shivering by the hedgerow,
Her life bleeds into cold cataracts.
I see an eclipse in those eyes, rainfall;
of starlight trapped in bottles.
My thirsty gaze will always remember.
Dead, and I pierce her body with shards of me.
What is afterward left.

Your face:
Years wasted blending with a poet's eye;
I have only a lifetime to forget.

My painful sleep unearths buried seasons,
It is only ev'ry morning that I cry;
Soft laughter seeps into aching wounds.

Please kiss me,
Kiss away the cuts you've torn--
The knives in your eyes bled my joy lifeless.

I still thee hold in my loneliness,
And wish that I could die in your false embrace,
Holding you forever in a moment of the past.
My Helen of Troy, please, this war makes me tired.

Belial
Rosier
Pain
Liar
I will never trust again.

Contributed by Levi O. Suggest a correction in the comments below.