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Jun 2017
Because I am supposed to be writing this
And all I can think about is you.
And you are all that I have written about
For hours uncountable to thieves.
How have you stolen all I know
With smiles stretched across our faces?
Veins pulsing through my wrists
Reflecting the green of your ever-gleaming eyes.
Beer bottles dripped of shared saliva
Dareful demons in a room of angels.
You, seeping my sweatshirt in smells of you.
                  Oh God, how they envied us.
                  Oh God, how I envied us.
Sophia Gaffney
Written by
Sophia Gaffney  San Diego
(San Diego)   
  394
   Aazzy
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