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Young

We are not a metaphor. 

 

Although, we have met before

I was a shy girl with bright blue eyes and you were a brown haired boy who played guitar on the bus

We grew up and grew together, inseparable

Unaware of what to call what we were, what we had

 

This was back when childhood was innocent and we still weren't sure how to kiss

 

Lips, mouths, necks, hands

We figured t...

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