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Oct 2012
that smile
it cuts through me
as a slow saunter through the thickest fog

it doesn't care for my troubles
it doesn't judge who I am

it just sits there
luminous
beneath that mirror in which I see only myself

we are the same
just letting the vestiges of life wash over us
trickling between our bodies, defining our boundaries

I ask if you'll swim out to the depths and drown with me
You happily grab my hand and we run fingertips first into the sea
William Fredrick Bissette
661
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