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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 01-June 12:29:49 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 77449
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Backseat Of A White Car
[time] => 2004-12-27 21:11:43
[hometext] => to him... as usual.
[bodytext] => a green blur, 8 miles from here, let's run away to New Jersey. yes, it was a heart. and you could not do anything about it. it used to beat like a broken traffic light, is used to glisten under a full moon down by the river of useless memories. hazy night, drops of tears trickling on foggy windows. all i wanted was to hear you talk about how lovely the night was, just like how you talked about picnics and sunrises. but no, you could not do anything about it. and the Voices were saying words of Truth and Confusion. do they really feel it? or is it only me whose heart dropped on the floor and longed to embrace the Stranger who was thought of as a Friend? flashbacks. i'll be home, where i am meant to wait and question. the blanket of ice cracked and let out a frozen sigh. all of Us is erased, and replace by Their Truth, where i am not a part of. she has not recovered... ...although she took all of the photos of the dead bodies with surreal smiles. crashed on a red light, no more miles to go, what happened to New Jersey? - Rae'04. 122604. Sun. 9:18PM. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 164 [topic] => 33 [informant] => Rae [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => SecretLove )
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