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Aug 2016
Ghost;
your wavering scent of cannabis and coffee,
your cracked and bruised hands intertwined with mine,
your pretentious and morbid stanzas,
your black jeans and moth-eaten band tees,
your tight and "safe" embrace,
your 3 a.m. adventures.
Ghost;
your love for me.
Ghost;
you.
Alive;
my love for you.
shit face
Written by
shit face  My Imagination
(My Imagination)   
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