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Sun soaking through bitter Winter winds The air begins creeping around The lotion I applied this morning. My legs have been bare for a while. And the water cuts clean through me. Icy knives less than dropped. River cold begins to feel new and dry. All of it blew passed me You and your skin. What I imagine it to be It could purify Every bit of me I think I'm lost Kiss me, Withtheworstbuzz. Withthebestlips, And you will see how important I am.
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
Writing high
Sun soaking through bitter Winter winds The air begins creeping around The lotion I applied this morning. My legs have been bare for a while. And the water cuts clean through me. Icy knives less than dropped. River cold begins to feel new and dry. All of it blew passed me You and your skin. What I imagine it to be It could purify Every bit of me I think I'm lost Kiss me, Withtheworstbuzz. Withthebestlips, And you will see how important I am.
Sylvia Plath, hidden quote, high, love, winter, important
maggie-bartolome
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Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
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