hardened wax peeled off of skin remembering what it felt like splashed when it was still so fucking burning hot and not the crumbly waxy flakes getting picked off now.... but they still bear some sort of remembrance...like being able to rip flesh open in one big gash and kiss that locked up soul...cause it's always locked up so damn tight.... i know... it's not the first time that was a kind of a mirror that held something that didn't want to have to be seen and dealt with one more time.
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