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Feb 15
soft melodies on the radio;
she’s got the rooftop down
brighton wind tangling her hair
fawn eyes wide with hunger

to see the way the sunlight kisses
the peach fuzz over her porcelain curves,
the thick brown lashes
over her tired-hooded-brooding lids

i will miss her small apartment,
the orange glow and that
lingering taste of cinnamon–
turmeric stains on her blouse

and i will follow her into the sea, knee deep
she will talk about the crash of the waves
too hard, too loud;
silent wind inside her insides
Written by
lucie  21/F/melbourne
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