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Aug 2014
I miss the rushing of words
that my fingers have troubles typing them all.
I miss the unending spree of thoughts
my mind cannot fathom one at a time,
but what I miss the most
is the touch of you
in every left-aligned poetry
your face reflects
transfixing all of me
stealing my own
memory of what
real beauty is.
still in dense state of mind
jacky
Written by
jacky  no places
(no places)   
391
   SPT
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