A black sky, outlined in clouds
Like the way your hair falls down your shoulders
A breath of fresh air after several days dry, I need it now more than ever
Humid, and my face is red, smiling and my lips are pursed
The trees hold high all that I can never have,
But for now I can pretend it’s in my grasp.


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Cory Garcia
plus de 7 ans


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Cory Garcia

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