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by
Eliot
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Circa 1994
Poems
Jun 2013
the boy that spent all his time.
He's a ghost now.
His eyes are dull
his touch is feathery
his voice is the wind.
Every time I spoke
he drifted further
away.
So I learned to be silent
and cherish
the time that was left to be spent
until my wallet
was empty.
Written by
Circa 1994
Florida
(Florida)
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Savannah Lee
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AJ
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