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Mar 2019
I miss––for still I miss.
My lips are stone, and cannot kiss.
My year was long;
What is this "bliss"?
What is love?
I can no longer reminisce.

I miss––for still I miss.
Heart is empty; no roar, no hiss.
A year, and you're still gone,
And poems are written into dawn.
Thoughts are dark like an abyss.
Finally an actual poem... as the months pass by, it only gets worse.
well this is awkward
Written by
well this is awkward  18/F/somewhere in this world
(18/F/somewhere in this world)   
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