Devanne

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Devanne

A product of poetry, and of true love, and of simple pleasures, and of life without regrets.
2 followers / 15 words

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Devanne Jan 2012

Pretense

Our bodies moved in
the way the leaves converse
when the wind runs past
a little too quickly.

The salt of sweat
and the scent of warm skin.
Breaths heavy with
Mistrust.

— The End —