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by
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May
Poems
Sep 2020
touch
water from the showerhead hits my face
rinses down over me
I lead my hands through the hair
rub them against the shoulders
down along the arms
I use all of my strength
but how can I ever be clean
when my skin
still remembers your hands?
Written by
May
22/F
(22/F)
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43
PÃ¥ÅpëbÅÃ¥
and
Bogdan Dragos
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