It has happened again
And I am feeling cheap
After closing the door
Nothing to cling to
But sweaty sheets and heavy hollowness
This time a bonus, a passion mark
So every time I look in the mirror
I know
What I am
What I did
What I want
But what I get
Addicted to attention
I let go, give in, only to be let down
By me
Always I am disrobed with lust
Never clothed with love
I cry I cry
I form icicles around my heart
I cry I cry
But never on the outside
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