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Writer's pictureTattoo Magazine

Love Decays | Elizabeth Howlett

Those fingers so delicately pluck the soft,

fragile strings, and yet turn hard and rough from time.


The life once swirling in your magnetic eyes,

Turned stagnant and dull.


Your lips left kisses tattooed across my chest,

purple and black like dying roses.


The painting you once gave me

gives me the sour taste

of the last time

I saw you.

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