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Jul 2011
The last time i danced
I couldnt remember the steps.
I was too busy leaking injustice from my pours
and looking for something to burn.

Your hands were on my hips
as we failed in style,
like tired machines.

You held me close
and whispered gently,
*In the sleep of death,
  you may find dreams.
Georgina Ann
Written by
Georgina Ann
384
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