In my first 20 years: A hand to hold tight. Shadows swept away in high octave seas. Incandescent walks. Poop emoji. Severely insufficient dark roads. Dragged summer days. Ghosted chaos. Quirky love without concerning expectations. Capybaras. Less grief.

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Hold tight to my hand
about to start a journey
to a far far land
to make you
all mine
Going to explore you
there inch by inch
with kisses that have
turned into euphoric
vintage wine

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