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May 2020
I think hours about that minute, months past,
Wishing my cab hadn't come.
Wishing we hadn't places
Nor people to be.

Though few nights more than strangers,
Our dream striding cities and oceans,

Not a thing was out of place

Simply and so naturally,
As I held you for the last time,
Felt your lips on mine,

Then walked away.
Written by
Thomas
147
 
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