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Slices MAG
Don't you know me by now?
All those tangerine dreams and
clementine kisses.
I remember the first time we touched,
I remember the first time it meant something.
Late last burnt November,
folded between the ruts in these hills,
our faces were inches apart,
yet our bodies seemed miles away.
Summer saw me let you go
when I couldn't carry you any more.
“We were whole once
and we're only parts now,”
you said.
But aren't we all just fractions of each other,
floating closer and farther like
sighs into blind ears or vacant hearts.
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