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The war.
I bled stars when your lips were against mine, feuding to chase the epicenter of void;
My skin on low little flames and sparks under your teeth;
The moon that floats in the sky shun me at night, to a place of darkness; when my mind spun with lust and my heart daggered out of love; out of you.
Was it you with my heart, or was it me, with your head?
The war in disguise that now has me in ruins isn't but a notorious solidarity.

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