Sure the shame still stood out with its crimson hues,
Bleeding through and rising over my face.
The regret rolled across the roof of my mouth,
Curling and churning ghosts, busy haunting the back of my mind.
The sorrow I had swallowed several times before,
Bitter and black and heavy as it sank down.
I can catch lingering lines of novocaine that I had self-prescribed,
Now my tongue's too numb to raise for the right words.
And underneath it all I finally taste the free air.
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