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Your Face

I woke up too sick to get out of bed. I was up too late dancing with the ghosts in my head. drank too much wine and wished I were dead- I was up too late dancing with the ghosts in my head. I could be ok and not feel so wasted if each ghost that spun me round the floor didn't wear your face. so I spend the night in a melancholy place- toasting each memory that I can't replace. maybe one more drink can lay these ghosts to rest. ©KinkyScreams 2006
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