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Mar 2020
Short bus trips going home
Quick glances in your eyes that glow
You reflect through the glass window
We’re still on the road but I feel home

If only our eyes could speak
Words would hide and hearts would seek
Not taking the risk to fall for it
Would be my greatest what if

Rock, paper, scissors
You’re a book of stories untold
Rock, paper, scissors
It’s your hands I want to hold
janel aira
Written by
janel aira  22/F/ph
(22/F/ph)   
113
 
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