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Vanilla Perfume MAG
I remember how you used to smell of vanilla.
How we would traipse through the house with our dolls,
dreaming of the perfect family.
We would go out to the backyard,
you would ask me to pose, wanting to take my picture.
I would watch your every move intently.
I remember when mom and dad would fight.
You would hug me tenderly and say,
it’s not your fault, everything will be okay.
Now you won’t respond to my messages.
And I wear vanilla perfume,
in hopes of becoming a little more like you.
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