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May 2019
Bo
The smell of cheap coffee reminds me of you
Reminds me of your grit
Your rough hands
It reminds me of how delicate you are
How guarded and misunderstood you have become
The glass of the French press still catches the light similarly
I think of you when I see an old car, when I hear an engine rev
You’re everywhere and no where at the same time
Written by
Amy
81
   Fawn
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