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Jan 2013
Dim recognition in a crowded empire state bar
loose lips bleed proverbial kisses laced with cigarette stained
Promises swearing to leave holy-shaped burns
On the permeable heart sleeves
Of the next sobbing, sober man
In the corner, sipping
Empty shades of whiskey
From the last blow delivered by a 450 mile run.
Aarin Mullins
Written by
Aarin Mullins
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