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دema flutter
Poems
Apr 2019
sorry, bebe!
the first time
our lips met
didn't feel foreign,
it was as if
you were my home
country
and I had only just
entered your land,
then took a taste of the berry tree
which my greatest grandma had grew,
in either ways;
she would be
******.
bebe = grandma in my language (Iraqi)
#lips
#kiss
#unity
#home
#cultures
#forbidden
#foreign
#love
#sparks
#kissing
Written by
دema flutter
22/F
(22/F)
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