And another thing is the way that I can't touch them. How I can touch my skin, and feel the dull bite of pain when you press your thumbs against the blue-grey puddles, wondering what I'd see if I peeled back that first layer and looked each burst and broken vessel right in the eye.
Thick lilac petals, a romance novel.
He loves me, he loves me not, he loves me, he loves me not.
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