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Jun 2016
fingers trace
the trails on my skin
your hands used to make,
used to take

ghosts of touches
nostalgias of caresses
hands driven by despair
have endeavored to redress

a body,
self intrinsic body
yet every inch screams you
*made of nothing but all taints of you
i miss you
OH NINA
Written by
OH NINA  21/F/PH
(21/F/PH)   
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