Without Address
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I probed her pretense.
Joyfully.
Her face is attractive.
Her passion shines through.
Her elegance and jubilation appeal.
Her eyes, purity, delight.
I need precise fiction.
My poetry will love her.
She thudded.
How should I describe her?
Her face.
O light-hearted,
see your devotion
in the mirror.
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2021
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