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Marshmallows and Midnightthat night in the country when we celebrated our intelligence with lighter fluid and dry wood the smoke burned my eyes but I laughed through the flying embers you told me the breeze felt like rain and I offered my face to the night sky, I said "the rain feels like rain" you cocked your head to the side, like a curious puppy and agreed with me through the gleam in your eyes later that night,you breathed me in and whispered "you smell like marshmallows and midnight" I knew with morning's clarity, it would just be burnt kindling. Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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