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He's prying too deeply
into the cavern
of my chest,
mucking through the darkness
to unconver the very stains
upon my soul.

I've naught to account for my sins
but bruised knees
and shaking hands.


I liked this. When we think of somebody we care about, sometimes in a romantic manner, we get a feeling in our chest that feels as if our hearts have dropped into our stomachs, leaving an empty cavern where the sound of love, hatred, and a million other feelings - both simple and complex - reverberate easily for long periods of time.