Dead
Location
A blowing wind,
Not at all.
No color.
Your lips,
Cold.
Mine,
Hugs yours.
Under a wet blanket,
Lies the sleeping ground...
Poetry Slam:
A blowing wind,
Not at all.
No color.
Your lips,
Cold.
Mine,
Hugs yours.
Under a wet blanket,
Lies the sleeping ground...
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