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May 2018
and when i think of him i'm
reminded of the cigarette that hangs loosely in his mouth
his eyes mirror the pain of loss
he whose hair was inked dipped
and his kiss of thorns
pricked my lips every time we kiss after all
he was a man who'd broken himself
and i was nothing more than cement trying to rebuild his walls
keepsake7
Written by
keepsake7  22/F
(22/F)   
104
     ---, Fawn and Rick
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