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first bruise
Streetlamps flicker,
echoing their silence.
The chill—
not just in the air,
but between glances
that once burned.
Footsteps dissolve
into memory's fog,
while love
learns its first
bruise.
.
Streetlamps flicker,
echoing their silence.
The chill—
not just in the air,
but between glances
that once burned.
Footsteps dissolve
into memory's fog,
while love
learns its first
bruise.
