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Listening to the rain as if I'm discovering an unheard language.
Of love mostly
But also of the repetition of life.
No two drops sound the same, yet somehow I still cannot tell them apart.
Impossible to define
I loved her. More than she actually knows.
Bubs
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This feels like a reoccurring pain
With a knife as a name.
Here I find myself ,
Once again.
Lost
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We only think that aliens would abduct us and do research because that’s what we would do
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