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Oct 2016
the way he rolled his cigarettes was godly
and i know baby that you miss how he tastes of smoke and loneliness
and i know that you miss breathing in his aroma of stale coffee and sweat

you told me about how his hands caressed you like you were a whisper
and how he bit into your skin like you were something to be devoured
Keah Jones
Written by
Keah Jones  The Moon
(The Moon)   
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