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I have a jaron thenightstandbeside mypillowand sometimes I twistopen thelidto let in sometearsso that when thelast drop fallsI can seal it shutand see..
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If I could changejust one thing, itwould be thebeginning of the end.Not the start, wheremost of us long togo, but the breakingof the ribbon:to finish ..
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The dirt andmud, the rich,brown puddles ofearth. Theycalled to her,reminded her. Shegrinned and madea leap.The water splashed,soaking into herskin. Co..
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it never slowsspeeding faster than my fingers can hitthe letters, like bare feet to black gravelchasing ideas down dark alleysand over brick buildings..
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Looking back,I wonder,and for the life of meI cant seehow your cold heartever made mefeel warm.Who knew thata little heartcould make sucha big mess?Yo..
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