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Jul 2018
Prematurely mourning
for a heart that hasn't broken yet,
I know the path is dangerous;
I'll risk it all again.

I see can see the quiet
illuminated in the night;
the silence speaks outloud inside
each time I close my eyes.

Nostalgic, painful memories
frozen, falling like hailstones,
and I hear whispered warnings
hidden in each wicked wind which blows.
Written by
Sara
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