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Apr 2012 · 496
Untitled
Abigail Waite Apr 2012
Untitled
A familiar breeze and your face creeps in

That song
This time of year
A certain word
And you appear
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Apr 2012 · 536
Untitled
Abigail Waite Apr 2012
Untitled
The ponds are dry
like sunken earth
A cloudy relief
shades the pain
You draw me in
with little worth
other than
a selfish gain
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— The End —