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Jun 2018
The wind carries a faint whisper
Murmured promises beneath the new moon
A soft hand caresses my cheek
As my breath rises in swirling puffs

Fingers leave a trail of warmth
It’s phantom I still feel
The press of lips
Steal my words
A night of which
I’ll never reveal
~
Written by
Ilia  18/F/Within the Farthest Depth
(18/F/Within the Farthest Depth)   
160
   Dagen Kipling
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