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Tuesday, November 25, 2014

TOILM

TOILM
The crisp cold scent of morning,
As the steam rises from my mug.
My hands embracing
The one I love most.
No longer interested in coffee
My strength comes from somewhere new,
We rise and fall,
To the beat of our hearts,
Gently,
Then more rapidly,
Stars explode,
And a cup of coffee
Sits,
Cooling on a windowsill,
Forgotten

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