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Aug 2013
We can't speak.
So we use our tongues instead.
Soft exhalations, I breath you into me.
If my body wasn't poisoned with your liquor lips, I wouldn't have muttered....
I miss you.
****, I miss you.
The days pass faster with your presence far into the forest of our past.
Where we remain until
you whisper
those three
little
syllables.
Kayla Anne Fowler
Written by
Kayla Anne Fowler  23/F/Omaha
(23/F/Omaha)   
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