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Aug 2015
I watched the wind drift through your hair as we chainsmoked
like we used to when we were sixteen. Mascara left
my cheeks damp and yours stained to the chin.

This was the closest I knew we would ever get
to be again, but with arms brushing slightly and the moon
streaking through the blinds onto the rug we once lay
on together - I felt maybe you could love me
once more.
Georgia Goulding
Written by
Georgia Goulding  Liverpool
(Liverpool)   
572
   Arlo Disarray
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