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Riley Smith Aug 2017
The frost’s bite is harsh on my pale face
Yet is made warmer by the presence of
Her, my cheeks fill with blush by her gaze.
Yet, the pain of an unrequited love

Lurks in the back of my mindscape, biding
It’s time, providing doubts and resistance,
The unforgivable sin of lying,
The mistakes of naïve adolescence.

But of adolescence I am no more,
So together we walk and together
We talk and together warm to the core,
Together a night lasts for forever.

As we wander through soft powdered moonstone
She gazes at me, fiery hair windblown
yet
Riley Smith Aug 2017
yet
I am not creative
Yet I create anyways.
I am not good at writing
Yet I do it anyways.
I have no shot with Her
Yet I try anyways.
I am not good at sports
Yet I play anyways.
I cannot keep a beat
Yet I play the drums.
I have no love for life,
But
I get up anyways.

— The End —