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Jun 2018
Red wine stains your lips and teeth,
reciting Tolstoy; war and peace,
smoke leaves your lipsΒ Β each word you speak
-as if it was, somehow, for me.

A dwindling old lover's flame;
we lay warm on a bed of coal.
Beneath the sheets, I've seen your face,
but every time your hands were cold.
Written by
sara  21/F/uk
     sydney, Wendi Schneider, N, Anna, Pluto and 14 others
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