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Nov 2017
he is the early morning rain
a frosted air filling my lungs

he is in these words
hidden within the letters

he is a canvas of colours
each stroke of my brush

he is the strum of my guitar
the way i talk
the colour of my eyes
the skip in my step

he is the pulse of my heart
and i wouldn't want it any other way
Z
Written by
Z  19/F
(19/F)   
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