Among my souvenirs
By white chef
After my holiday I brought back a lot of objects. One of them was my broken heart After I had to leave my newfound love Behind me. Not enough room. I also have one picture, Which I cling to each night As each moment with her Falls into oblivion, And so she is gone. I guess what they say is true-- Holiday souvenirs always fall apart. Written February 5th, 2002 © on Feb 04 2002 07:11 PM PST 0 • 8
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"After my holiday..."