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It has been a year. Instead of forgetting you, I've spent my time waiting for the day you'll change your mind. People asked me if I've already moved on, and I knew I've moved backwards. Back to the time we were together. I still miss you. I still long for your kisses. I still dream of Saturday afternoons. I still wish for Sunday mornings, of evening meals together, of motorcycle rides to the countryside. **I am still here. My poetry is my witness.**
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Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
My Poetry is My Witness
It has been a year. Instead of forgetting you, I've spent my time waiting for the day you'll change your mind. People asked me if I've already moved on, and I knew I've moved backwards. Back to the time we were together. I still miss you. I still long for your kisses. I still dream of Saturday afternoons. I still wish for Sunday mornings, of evening meals together, of motorcycle rides to the countryside. **I am still here. My poetry is my witness.**
Avant-Garde
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Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
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