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Apr 2018
sawdust on your lips, in your hair, falling. the early morning tastes sweet, chill before dawn stinging your cheeks. you think you've done good.

‘do you like it?’ you ask, though you don't know how she'd tell you, locked up in this pretty box you've made for her. still, you poured your love into it. you want her to say yes.

the five o’clock sunrise leaves you hanging.
written 8/27/16
Written by
Mimi  17/F
(17/F)   
357
 
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