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My Hands Inwoven In Your Hair

My hand was once inwoven in your hair –
I feel it still.
My thoughts rely thereon when through the air
I sense – oh, thrill! –
a smell like your perfume – I couldn’t bear
to carry on
without my hands – my thoughts – inwoven in your hair
whenever someone
reminds me of you – and I remember the truth –
the truth of these sensations that I’ll never
get to feel again;
my hands inwoven in your hair –
as memory they must remain

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