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Kisses of our shadows
linger along seasons of memory
in snowflakes to be melted by lips
in flowers to be soaked by the rain
in waves seduced by the moon of love
to go through our bodies
High or low
Dark or light
Cold or warm
regardless of long or short
versions of our silhouettes
They were once as real as love could be
but as memory fades
they are not so certain
of the warmness or wetness
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