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Aug 11
Repentant thoughts
stall
in a dim lit
corridor of tongue.
hard plank
passage in yellow
early morning wash,

rancor sinks
there
untouched by me
or you.

A bright kite
***** limp
in tall trees
that was us.
Andre F
Written by
Andre F  100/M
(100/M)   
52
 
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