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lonely love
March 21, 2014
Your skin
is the velour
coating
my pale,
empty hands
and
the “winter forest” incents
that haze over
my closed eyes
while the smell
of fresh biscuits
floats
under my door
reminds me of your gentle face.
Play me a record
that hums your name
to the essence
of the sea hugging the sand
and overgrown
summer grass
but I will sing my own song
© Stacy L.,New City, NY
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