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Creative Works


Notes

These days are numbered. You and I both know that. As we sit here, our legs hanging in the water, ripples reaching out and engulfing our reflections I miss it already. As four legs, able to reach the water, are numbed with the cold I know it is no longer the two of us. It never really was. Our hands cross behind our backs, the affection is visible but something is missing. I don't want to leave the serene trickling of the nearly dried falls and the time our lives intertwined.


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