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C F Apr 2019
With every step,
you and I
We make our beds.

In the piney mosses
that grows in the cracks
of tired sidewalks.

Near the nest of peels
and fallen flakes from
age old graffiti.

We walk against  
forgotten faces
of decrepit buildings.

You and I
We lay our heads here.
To dream of a world gone by.

— The End —