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May 2012
You taste like a cigarette.
When you called my phone and asked me to come over
I could tell that you were smoking one, just by your voice--
That’s when my mind saw you, as perfect as a television picture

You and your utopian profile view
Your unshaven features are rough against my own porcelain face
I look up at you and wonder, how long until we are here again?
You and I, in this room, with these lights that are dimmed to perfection
Kayla
Written by
Kayla
536
   Kayla
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