The Cold

November 3, 2011
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The cold whispers,
As the wind touches my skin.
I close my eyes,
As I begin to listen.
I listen to the whispers,
As the trees shuffle in the wind.
And that is when,
The old memories begin.
Cuddling in my backyard,
Very close together.
These memories are still in my mind,
And they will be forever.
The cold sends,
Chills up my spine.
As I wish quietly to myself,
That you were mine.

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