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Rated: · Poetry · Dark · #1842192
One of my first pieces in my notebook
All I can see as we lay together in my bed is your dark silhouette where you rest. I reach over to run my hands through your hair only to touch hair, as if this time like the countless others would be any different.

I think off all the nights spent in this room as nightmares of us paint themselves across the ceiling. The nightmares haunt both my dreams and reality. Sadly, I am torn because if these nightmares leave so will all I have left of you.
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