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Summer timed

Summer deals its first hand no bluffing behind her eyes depression heated to irritating comfortless catching tunes upon the air that haunt from summered pasts the clink of ice on crystal Mowers scream from close by a yapped chorus bites the air the haze lifting from cement for a moment ripples reality then a falling wind chills with the burning shadows of anything stopping the sun's stretch

Copyright © | Year Posted 2022

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