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Veins of sheets, entangle us. She tells me, without sound. Without pause, she speaks, in the backseat, under frosty moonlight. She feels me, in blurry crowds and through crisp empty roads. Follow her voice, through mornings painted gray. She tells me. Smiles with her eyes, it's audible, almost divine, she glows. She lets her hair down, a breath of gold, sweet and comforting. You’re safe. She is there, solid as stone. She is here, for me.
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Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 9:13 AM UTC
The way she tells me
Veins of sheets, entangle us. She tells me, without sound. Without pause, she speaks, in the backseat, under frosty moonlight. She feels me, in blurry crowds and through crisp empty roads. Follow her voice, through mornings painted gray. She tells me. Smiles with her eyes, it's audible, almost divine, she glows. She lets her hair down, a breath of gold, sweet and comforting. You’re safe. She is there, solid as stone. She is here, for me.
jason-drury
Written by
40/M/American
Jun 21, 2019
Jun 21, 2019 at 9:13 AM UTC
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