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Al Grant
Poems
Aug 2020
cycles
Your words left an imprint,
like a slap or a grip of a hand.
red streaks, and then,
the swollen pain.
I think Iβm
delicate
yet, I donβt want you to change.
I'm addicted to your highs
Even more so, by
the plummet
of your lows;
before and
-after.
Written by
Al Grant
F
(F)
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118
Bogdan Dragos
,
---
,
Imran Islam
and
ju
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