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Jan 31
...and I cradled your head
on my chest
hair a rarest substance
onyx in reflection
eyes black holes
whose event horizon
arrests me

the feel of your skin
cheek cradled in my palm
press of your body
like a reflecting song
I can't get out
of my head

and I could breathe
again.
RMatheson
Written by
RMatheson  Beating tired bones
(Beating tired bones)   
65
   Winter Bird and Adelina
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