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Aug 2018
Sunday only during the Summer
the history of these words begin.
Windows flung open
fan on a constant eight hour rotation
she wears bare legs
and no make up,
doesn’t wash just
sits and mellows.
What memories have alcohol not touched,
rose tinted glasses hide the blood,
hide the shame,
pretend to feel
and watch words form again.
Effortlessly, supposedly.
Tegan
Written by
Tegan  25/London
(25/London)   
293
 
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