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Oct 2019
I feel her in my lungs, she is my very breath.
Every intake is a caress against my lips.
A life without would be death.
A craving? No, something more.
Buring in my chest, a pulsing ravenous need.

But what am I to her? A leaf perhaps.
Momentary beauty that fluters past her eyes,
To be trampled underfoot without thought.
Written by
Belle  21/F
(21/F)   
252
 
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