you arrived at the door
how becoming it was of you,
arriving so timely
hurriedly devoured the reflection
which I aimed at your perception
and hoped you believe the contours of
my face that I painted with my mind.
Escaping your notice, and veiling my intent
as I stroked every second that passed in ease
and indulged myself into your
passive attendance and hoped to scar your
memory with my inept physical attribute;
features that I crafted while we
exchanged hopes... but then I moved on
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This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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