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May 2014
I've learn to abhor many things such as
The taste of salty, **** tears on my tongue,
The aroma of the dewy, crisp forest floor,
The vision of blue eyes intertwined with bliss dancing away,
The feel of a burning hot neck being pressed on by a gelid nose
The sound of a drowsy midnight voice whispering "I love you."
But it seems that what I've come to execrate
Are the same as what I was once learning to grow fond of.
Sierra Carleton
Written by
Sierra Carleton
569
   Laura Mankowski
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