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Jun 2014
I walked in and saw you sipping from a whiskey bottle.
Your hand clenched round a note  that read "not again"
There were candles there, cigarettes in the glass you gave up on.
And a rope intended to hug your neck
There was something in the way you'd look past me when I said
"They won't read about you this way"
But they would. I'd just never want to read again.
Phil jones
Written by
Phil jones
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