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I never know if when you say goodbye
It will be the last time
Your voice is an echo in my head
But I don't know where it's coming from
You never told me you loved me
And I think that's because you never did
But even if it's a lie
I wish it was "I love you"
Pulsing in my ears
Instead of "goodbye"
 Oct 2014 Angelina
Walt Whitman
Women sit, or move to and fro—some old, some young;
The young are beautiful—but the old are more beautiful than the young.
When I was younger, I used to run away from home and hide in somebody’s garden and hide there for hours and hours but it was only five minutes and I would go home and nobody would notice I had run away.
I am from a town that told me how to walk,
Taught me to step lightly
So my foot steps would be soft
I don’t want to wake the dead
I was born in a town that cannot decide
Between sleep and insomnia
I nod along and watch my step
I shiver at night
This town has been keeping me safe
So they say
But I am restless with the evening
And the hillsides
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