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Sep 2014
I loved the way your secrets felt at night,
how I felt poetry between our skin,
like silk
as you peeled back my fragile incapabilities,
alive within my bed sheets
and always asked for a million
forevers.

this poem is written in past tense
and now I know how different
quiet and silent
feel.
Dean Eastmond
Written by
Dean Eastmond  Weymouth
(Weymouth)   
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