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Do you think I will come back?

Inside, the thought Seeing her face she looks past I never know how things work broken like a crisp brown skin forgettable name fork and fissure fizzle and feign force and... We won’t speak Nameless books shelved permanently truth be told, I dream of her.
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Written by
keenan-dixon
American
Published
Jul 3, 2012
Lines·Words
16·45
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