Under all the odds and ends
I found your old black shirt
smelling s if you wore it yesterday
I imagined your soft lips and giant feet as you lay
tossled in my sheets
I wonder what your doing on this hot summer day
clothes sticking to you like a wet napkin
your probably with another
leaving behind pieces of you to be remebered
I guess i shouldnt call
i wrestle with the idea
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just a blog for me to type my poetry
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