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Sep 2016
i long for damp gold tears
from the dying trees
for me to inhale the summer's death
and exhale the winter's birth
when the air is hangs low with drowsiness
and cinnamon settles in the wind
what more can i want-
than cold nose and warm chest-
so loosely wrapped in ochre wool?
Leo
Written by
Leo  beijing
(beijing)   
  1.5k
       Raja Smith, Inkveined, Oby, Zoe, ryn and 15 others
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