The innocent-looking lamp
That I have know for so long
Burns me with accusations
With every wrong move I make.
Fingertip upon the bulb,
I retreat from the sudden hurt if brings.
Trying to cool it on my face soaked of tears...
NO USE
The fire still rolls within
The memory is tenacious
As my palm hovers over yet again
Longing to revisit the source
Of the mostly forgotten pain...
*gasp*
Wishing it away is hardly easier said than done.
WHAT WAS I THINKING?!
That it'd be like acid upon the skin...
So soft, smooth, and inviting?
I guess it's too much for me to stop...
In cautious me.
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