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Rated: E · Poetry · Death · #1478456
A short poem created in a workshop.
Don’t think

That I would
Think this way.
The hand of my mind
Is lovingly caressing your face,
Stroking your hair,
And wishing it was in yours.

I thought
You would know
That everything I say,
I mean.
© Copyright 2008 Effy Hill (jellyt at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1478456-Dont