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Feb 2012
I miss the awkward silences.
The way music used to get louder
when the lights went out.
That little sore
on the inside of my bottom lip
after we kissed.

I miss the tension of your grip
on my arm where the razor left his mark.
The way you used to talk to me...
The way you used to listen...
The way you used to
*Care.
Ginger Gray
Written by
Ginger Gray
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