| Hands that burn
eyes that touch,
intangible lines
with illusive thoughts.
Innocent murderer
sits on the edge
watching windows
as if glass breathed, lived.
She envies their simplicity
yet sends a scowl
with every smile,
she likes the feeling of cast iron
encasing her in bars.
He desperately wants in,
not just the warm glance
and excuse she gives.
It pains her in a place
she’s left unseen,
like fire burning cold cement
with magic,
with feeling.
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