December 2009
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After I have travelled so far, we’d set the fire to the third bar. We’d share each other like an island until exhausted, close our eyelids. And dreaming pick up from the last place we left off. Your soft skin is weeping; a joy you can’t keep in. I’m miles from where you are. I lay down on the cold ground and I pray that something picks me up and sets me down in your warm...