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66 Books Of Cleansing

Mashlin

As tones of winter creep
Photographs she gave to me
On the long road I fell asleep

On patterns in the street
I have been pacing for weeks
Falling short on the words I spoke

And I never meant like this
And I never meant like this

Books of cleansing
Words I've longed her to speak
Growing tired of stirring dreams
To love her selflessly
To love her always
Not to worry
How refreshing