Absence is harder to notice,

the words not said,

the face unseen among so many.

 

How do the cogs work

in the machine?

Always spinning.

 

My name will never cross lips.

Not when being with her is cocaine.

Ingest her and she fills you.

She fills your life, making every moment beautiful.

She plays with your hair, does your make-up, makes you feel special.

 

The clock still ticks

when the face breaks.

Always spinning.

 

Thin girl wears your clothes

and repeats your words back to you.

You’re her doll.

And you want it.

Poetry

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