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Jul 2010
My lungs forgets the proper rhythm for survival.
Instead I breathe in your fingers
And breathe out your tongue.
My heart forgets how to pump my blood
(Was that bumBUM, or beBEEbum?)
So you pump me instead.

My mind forgets how to think
And all that exists is you and me
And the rhythm we create.
Written by
Christine
1.1k
 
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