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Nov 2015
Hot puffs of breath that steam in the crisp air are all I can focus on

Your harsh footsteps faded to to a soft crunch that barely registers

Your melodic voice is nothing more than a glorified hum

You are dissipating
Like steam

The temporary clouds forming from your lips
Are the only thing you have left to give me

And they are just as fleeting as your love
Strangely fond of this one.
WickedHope
Written by
WickedHope  27/F/Not Boston, Almost Hell
(27/F/Not Boston, Almost Hell)   
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