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mira
Poems
Feb 2021
promise
the car feels like you
dusty ice on the windshield
i can't see out
your eyes are wiser than mine,
so i take your hand
close my eyes
let you drive.
my hands still smell like your hair and your skin
we can't see the end of the snow,
only hear that it's there,
because the road is so quiet.
learningtowalkagain
Written by
mira
angel's landing, utah
(angel's landing, utah)
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mangrove child
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lana
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