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faith of the blind
by   elle 

your lies.
Not merely spoken by your lips -
Not simply seen in the dialation of your eyes -
Rather with your tongue, forcing them deep within.

Lies, painted sweet by your skin
  which clung to the sheets we laid beneath
No truth was found in your strong hands which cupped me,
  catching the greatest of my desires

Or the breath which escaped you, 
poisoned with your deceit.
All of which I tasted, cooled, rested, inhaled... 
in the absolute innocence of the blind . . .