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Mar 2017
You are my favorite taste to seem.

Dmt was great it's knowledge was brilliant.

Still you race threw my mind.

Always winning gold with those lips.

And the roundness of your hips.

Surplus, nights of fire and kegs asking you not too leave.

You received a cell call.

You left as I wonder where.

Each room empty.

Each day hovers a mild fog.
Girl lost tears
Written by
Timothy hill  Ny
(Ny)   
230
 
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