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Apr 2016
She use to kiss me with eager,
I miss her vigor,
It gave my blood high fever.
I miss her as much as I need her.
I be here, or I be there,
Close enough to be near,
to scent her scent,
that is heaven sent,
So I can breath her air.
Her touch, the rush, leaves me hell bent,
to dive deep into the depths of her descent.
Styles
Written by
Styles  NYC
(NYC)   
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