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Ghost
His trace inhabits every fraction of my mind, lingering like a thousand dollar perfume, lurking quietly in the shadow of anticipations.
What would i sing, if he's every song?
What would i speak, if he's my language?
What would i dream, if he's my only imagination?
Now that he ghosts and I am on my knees, I've been counting days in the loudest silence, wishing upon the heavy rain to cl...
Tuesday 24th July 2018 1:06 pm
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