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Sep 2013
They are a stranger.

Their hair falls in waves
Crashing against the shore
Of their forehead.

Their eyes smolder,
With a heat that keeps
Warmth seeping into your soul.

Their skin is canvas,
Painted with rusty dots
Highlighted by dusty skylights.

Their lips are a crescent moon,
Curving upwards
in a soft smile.

They are an essence
of beauty and
imperfection personified.

They are a stranger.
Natalie Wood
Written by
Natalie Wood  Maine, USA
(Maine, USA)   
1.1k
   Weeping willow
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