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Apr 2020
you were never mine
and I was never yours
but there was an Us
floating somewhere between the ace of spades and a subway turnstile
clothes off in the woods
we hid amidst boughs and branches
but even in shadows we still felt so naked
splinters in my knees
as I silently begged you to stop
hands by my face
smelled of flour and water
Written by
Elisa Cinelli
132
     Bogdan Dragos and L B
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