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Beau

I miss the way his fingers spin Like the daisy colored spool Off the kitchen table He sings in a gruffed tone Below my ears Injecting that beauty Into my neck He's not some brooded lost soul If anything he's the sun Shining through the bleached curtains Of a film noir hotel Shedding some secret No one told me I love you And not the mirror you dress in Its those moments without That I remember.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2010




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Date: 8/30/2010 8:32:00 AM
Wow I missed reading a lot of excellent poetry this past weekend. Thank you for sharing your writing with us. Hoping you have a wonderful week filled with inspiration Aislinn. Love, Carol
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Date: 8/29/2010 4:36:00 PM
So enjoyed reading your most creative write tonight.. there are many contest featured on the Soup.. check them out and enter.. good luck with luv..
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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry