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Jul 2018
Your heart is not a bureaucrat,
waiting on tax returns.

Nothing is in writing,
nor verbal contract.
The only inking is flushed skin upon contact.

It is implied.
It's the high road.
It's when the bed shakes during a storm;
It's when the grass grows again in the morning.
EphemeralLikeGold
Written by
EphemeralLikeGold  23/M
(23/M)   
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