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Friday, October 23, 2009
kyle in colour
its autumn in brooklyn
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die and go west
as she talks, her lips breath spring roses
gilded, dark and golden
like a good book i can't put this day back
shoot my feathers oh so high. break that sky.
grasping at the pretty straws
the frame over running water
kyle in colour
seahorse and i
hot apple floor
rematch
at last my love has come along
there are no words
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