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Icebreakers.

Love
and murder:
it was all
you were ever

about. So hungry
for control, pride
phobic of doubt. Sex
was your Novocain.

Mindful.
Focus, fixed
on nothing,
nothing
but one point.

Fucking
was your game.
You had to want
something more
from me,

something tangible,
ritual signifying
feelings that felt
so true, resonated

with the honesty,
sincerity, you buried
so deep,
so damn deep

in your soul.
You only wish
it were cold:
as you live,
your ice

has been melting,
and I will
be there to see
you escape.

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