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Her house is always a cloud of smoke, And my heart is always her cigarette, her hands the lighter. She lights me up, Then throw me away only to peel me off at the bottom of her heels.
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Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
heart on the floor
Her house is always a cloud of smoke, And my heart is always her cigarette, her hands the lighter. She lights me up, Then throw me away only to peel me off at the bottom of her heels.
eyeslikepoetry
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Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
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