2004-05-05 - 1:16 a.m.
This angel I love more than five thousand silent days, unspoken nights. More than long dark helixes of blood on the sheets and the scratchy smell of your cats. So long ago, in different face - I still recall (and most I don�t) her endless combinations never grown. Slipping into night, who is blowing softly on my cheek? � 2004 Geoff Gladstone
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