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Aug 2018
july july july
she lays your head above my thighs
when you were born the sky was clear white
the number of twenty doesn't seem so small
left left left
we shared the same smell
to the east we went; through nature we never spent
my tongue ache to whichever you take
made this just after the month end
z
Written by
z  24/Jakarta
(24/Jakarta)   
181
 
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