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I promised myself that I'd stop writing poems to/for people. But here I am again immortalizing my stupid confusion in ink/digital bytes....

~the last word in each line is the first word in the next line~

Ode to Beauty/Unspoken Words

Quietly beautiful like
Porcelain winter sun
Rises in her smile
On the lucky world beneath
Lies an insecure girl feeling for once complete

I miss...
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thefuckoffkid:
You seem obscenely interesting. smile