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Hung

Should I forget your winter warmth
that filled my every fibre?
Or perhaps erase the perfumed scent
of Jasmine dabbed behind your ear.
You kept me wrapped in softness
of your skin, protected
from this world and all its flaws.
Although I feel the sun shine
through the glass, I cannot help
but long for snow, to feel
your touch once more.
Yet here I hang forlorn
and you are gone.

◄ These Streets

Nature's Forecast ►

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