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Apr 2018
you cry out into the
stars
but they never listen
to you
they never listen
you feel her teardrops on you shoulder like a
cold summer
rain
but she never listens
to your comforting
words
what would you do if those turquoise glass orbs had not met yours on a
humid
july
afternoon
you would not
exist
yet again
Francis Rowell
Written by
Francis Rowell  15/FTM/Lost, probably
(15/FTM/Lost, probably)   
169
   Callie
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