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

That song
This time of year
A certain word
And you appear

— The End —