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Nov 2014
You hang low in my sky,
     like the moon before the morning—
          an intruder amongst the burning, beating,
               rising sun of my heart.

You make my tides roll,
     and you’re too hot to hold—
          blistering my fingertips
               and branding the melting core
                    of my soul.
email me at annaskinner18@ymail.com to let me know what you think :)
Written by
Anna Skinner
  776
   AMcQ, TigerEyes, CP, ---, r and 1 other
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