Long for the days
when the wind touched my skin
in a way that was suggestive.
When the cigarette hanging from my lips
accompanied me
when no one else would.
It was almost dark.
And jazz played in the background
Long for the days
when the wind touched my skin
in a way that was suggestive.
When the cigarette hanging from my lips
accompanied me
when no one else would.
It was almost dark.
And jazz played in the background
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