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Anna
Poems
Jul 2013
Drift
Smoke drifts
In the way words used to roll off of our lazy lips
And cloud the room
Until the only thing visible to me was you.
Now,
The room is only full of
Wisps of memory
And an emptyness that only I can see.
Written by
Anna
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Anderson M
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Jacquelyn Audrey Whiston
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