Every intimate touch each sensitive word , loving intention strangled at birth the cold comfort , an empty bed room to wander, echoes from hollowed corridors, silent in her mind fingertips , shunned by pleasure drum quiet rhythms without conscious thought flies to the darkness waiting in vain for endless nights to wake she is , and will be a shadow , cruelly defined, true but a vague truth Debris from the years cracks as floats away watching small details wallpaper without emotion drifting off , naked, still, almost numb, aside the faint drum , waiting
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