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Apr 2017
The thing that breaks my heart
And allows me to come clean
Confessions at midnight
When tears are nearly pristine

He becomes the sheets my hands crave
To hold on to
when the day is rougher then us
He is where my soul can rest its tired head

He is the laughter between recycled jokes
And somehow his classics are funnier
As I feel the laughter tremble in
His heart of hearts

He was the happiness
That found me the way
all wonderful things do
And he stays the way they usually don't
Lvice
Written by
Lvice  16/Following the bees
(16/Following the bees)   
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