The stroke of midnight

He strokes your back

Do you love him?

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There was a girl who loved a boy.

She was beautiful

He was not

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She loved the taste of plastic,

He hated the way she smelled, and always tasted if plastic.

He goes down her spine, and can't stop saying it, "how I hate the way you taste..."

She's to high to hear him, caught in the wind.

She taints the oxygen with her words. They hang in the air, rotting it, festering, making it utterly unbreathable.