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We Once Sung The Same Melody

The smell of your hair
The color of your lipstick  
The exposed soft lips of your half-smile,

they mark the path of travel from the living room
to the bed, like our record collection on the floor.

When we wake up, we'll pick up everything
before it's stepped on and ruined  
 
wait for another night  
to make love the way we once listened to music.
mbass33
Written by mbass33 (matthew bass)
Published
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