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Her

He touches her hair, and pulls her neck to his face and knows that this scent he could never replace.

He can only stare and hold on to this image he sees, because film is too fair and never just to her beauty.

A million conversations run through his head, thinking of all the things he should have said.

A million kisses he might never get back, because the sun and the moon do not meet at these places to where he has packed.

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