Sunday's Best
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Bruise-blue

Sunday's Best


Hey, even if your world stops now,
it wouldn't mean anything. I'm sad to say,
because all splashes are ripples from the distance
--then rings of waves...

Turn them a deaf ear.

I figured it out; now I'm tired.
I'm putting my arms down and turning away.
And the sound? I'm sure there are mouths moving
but I can't hear anything. Not today...

Get it off my back.
I'm bruise-blue from all my abuses.

'She was the queen of the mistakes,'
I was told by everyone,
'Until you made her a saint.'

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