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His black hand
on my white belly
and I can't even pronounce his name

The saxophone
keeps on playing playing
origami birds fly above my head.

I'm 15
and I miss home
but only happy letters get across the sea

If not your eyes
that saw it all
I could easily pretend it was just a dream.

Dear Anna,
It's good you don't keep in touch.
How would we talk about it now?
His black hand   on my white belly   and I can't even pronounce his name      The saxophone   keeps on playing playing   origami birds fly above my head.      I'm 15   and I miss home   but only happy letters get across the sea      If not your eyes   that saw it all   I could easily pretend it was just a dream.      Dear Anna,   It's good you don't keep in touch.   How would we talk about it now?