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5:47

It's 5:47AM.

Eyes heavy.

Hands weak.

Mouth dry.

I dreamt of us again.

The meadows.

The skies.

The softness of your skin.

The sound of your voice.

That taste of your lips.

"To be loved is to be free.

Maybe someday it'll be me."

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Written by

American

Published: Jan 9, 2014
LinesWords: 1244

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5:47 - Hello Poetry