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Lines

Lying next to him-
I adjusted my breathing
so that I inhaled his breath.
He filled my lungs,
And saturated my blood.
He flowed to my skin
and made me blush.
When I opened my veins,
He took from me
only what he had given-
And then
the cycle began again.

And I foolishly trusted in the cycle.
Believing it would always give back
what I gave.
But he took me and left-
And now I'm nothing.
Patiently waiting.
For the life I had planned
To be resurrected
Or born again.
But it's dead.
And we are no longer circles,
but independent finite lines.

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