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Seasoned

I couldn't believe how lucky I was. even dreaming of boyish hair in yellow eyes. My mind knows what to make of it. still I feel its like a winter, coming up on banks of snow and slowing. Yet--I recognize the glimmer of what's buried that can grow again. magnetized once more by space and time.
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Written by
alex-marie
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Written by
alex-marie
Published
Aug 6, 2013
Lines·Words
17·56
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