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Robyn Kekacs
Poems
Sep 2011
The Feeling
My senses are extremity
The air is all I taste
It's gritty wise and patient
No inhale goes to waste
My senses are impeccable
My ears will leech the sound
Of a parking car
A healing scar
The growing in the ground
My senses overwhelm me
And touch is what remains
But we can touch eachother because
I know you feel the same.
Written by
Robyn Kekacs
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Katelin Michelle
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