A corpse perhaps of a carcass you accidentally left behind of which you cannot bear to look upon no more as teardrops;
parasites as they dig into your thoughts moving slowly into your nostrils as you try to recall me near you.
To a flashback you cannot leave behind. Is it ghosts pleasuring you? Or is it the memory of you killing me that you want so much back in your mind? The subtle kisses, the strange starry waltzes at midnight? Do you remember? Do you not?
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