Walking in her room
Is the same it has always been
The air doesn’t change
And I see her lying there, God
She is poetry itching to be written
I hope I can tell her one day
Maybe when she is asleep
And I’m still wide awake
Countries away
I’ll still remember the curve of her cheek
The softness of her hips
The wild curls spread across her pillow
A sigh escapes her lips when I make too much noise
I don’t want to go
Believe me, love
I never wanted to leave
Gia Raquel 
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