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Broken Ground

I miss your face and silly, strange ways

reaching to kiss your face, I can almost taste…

I’ll take it to the grave and think out loud, maybe position a long way

Sitting on a headstone

I have become owned, no longer a slave to their throne

I’d greet you with the widest grin, ask you “Where the hell have you been?”

while stretching to kiss your chin…whispers of won’t you let me in