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Faded Sepia

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Of stoned photographs in faded sepia,
somewhere tween my tongue and ether,
trying to remember sounds of laughter
when they whisper your name.
 
Dreaming of fingerprints,
in the sleep that softly falls,
lost between a wish and hymn,
a hazy smile, forgetting names.

In this limbo, where memories roam,
echoing of a past, in a bygone day,
reaching for ghosts that hear my call,
of stoned photographs in faded sepia.

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