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I feel the warmth of someones lips upon my cheek,
but its only a kiss of death.
A want and a need to accept it lie deep within,
but I know the jeopardy.
My insecurities whisper something slowly in my ear,
but Ive heard this before.
It is just the answer that I have been longing for,
but not what my soul desires.
I have no care for the soul in days of despondency,
but my soul is unyielding.
It allows me to get through these times of despair,
but it wont let me forget.
Once again I swindle myself into believing its passed,
but it never really vacates.
For once, I desire an urge for the little orange bottle,
but the soul will satisfy.