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May 2015
I realize we were like flame.
With a single spark,
suddenly it was warm and bright.
But just like fire,
a simple blow of the wind
made everything dark and cold.
There was never really something special,
but the fleeting and tepid moments ablaze. Now what remain are the burnt parts
and the things
that will never be the same again.
Written by
Louana Abada
838
   River, CapsLock and Poetess
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