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Dear Diary,

I've stopped writing to you
not because I want to forget
just that the rainbow's hue
has started turning into velvet

lines that I can't undo
are penned in this broken sonnet
verses that once were true
are now turning into livid threats

risque dreams that were few
have been plastered with plain regret
pensive like a tattoo
yet addicting like cigarette

Now, tell me
How can I possibly make it through
when I'm stuck here trying to redo
things that I can no longer pursue?

~ming

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