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230204
Contributed by
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on
Thursday, 26th February 2004 @ 09:04:18 AM in AEST
Topic:
oops
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Her brown curls leave whip kisses stinging across my back...and my love She presses my hand to her breast and then to the cuts Her eyes like salt and warm breath, drawn out death. I miss you. Tied by my fingers and toes to the grass warm, gentle sun across his hands his hands across hers and my heart in acid. Do i really miss her. or only the way she made me feel
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... [
2004-02-26 09:04:18] (Date/Time posted on
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Re: 230204
(User Rating: 1 ) by kailadragon on
Wednesday, 10th March 2004 @ 03:56:05 PM AEST (User
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a Message)
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nice poem, I loved the feel of the "warm, gentle sun" across my face...good write |
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Re: 230204
(User Rating: 1 ) by PRECIOUSBECKY on
Friday, 12th March 2004 @ 02:25:23 PM AEST (User
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IT IS SOMETIMES HARD TO DETERMINE THE DIFFERENCE IN MISSING SOMEONE AND JUST BEING USED TO HAVING THEM AROUND. GOOD WRITING I THINK I WILL ENJOY ALL OF YOUR WORKS |
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