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Sep 2020
the white of a door,

never felt lonelier,

than your face imprinted,

from a long lost sun.

for a year i carried each second.

like a wreck,

who knows nothing else.

i still dream you sober.

wishing you could come over,

for a minute, be a lover.

all my dreams are three-leafed,

always missing a clover.
Written by
charles  29/M
(29/M)   
51
     Ciel De Verre and Bogdan Dragos
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