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Apr 2011
Cold and lonely sights like these
Scare and push me toward the ******
Of nights I knew so well when I was young

Of closing bars and empty lots
Nightly walks and ***** thoughts
Things I'd thought my frozen hands had wrung

But now they're back and tempting me
In silent forms that I can't flee
Like an image some old musician once had sung
James Banks Worsham
Written by
James Banks Worsham  34/M/NYC
(34/M/NYC)   
1.8k
     James Banks Worsham and janis tsai
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