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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 10-June 22:28:46 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 32189
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Ex's
[time] => 2004-01-20 07:54:00
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => There have been a few burnt beyond recognition, and if I ran my hand along their faces I would not know them. There are one or two still lingering around, hanging out in the corner booth where sometimes I order a memory, and sit, just sit and listen to them talk. There are some I’d undo if I could. A bad attitude I still meet on occasion today. A stale aftertaste you can’t drink enough to forget. There was one who percolated within, then left to find his vision, whose voice I’d know anywhere. And if you sat me in a crowded room, —blindfolded I’d know if he was there. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 182 [topic] => 43 [informant] => manicmuze [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 3 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )
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