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Apr 2017
Not a day goes by,
That I miss your touch.
Skies forever Grey,
Death had his way.

Life is full,
of a Judas kiss.
I close my eyes,
and dream of you.

Pray to death,
to be with you.
Years go by,
and here still I lie. . .
*All alone.
A Poet
Written by
A Poet  The Moon
(The Moon)   
471
 
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