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Cassandra Beal Sep 2015
She resembled the Mona Lisa. The shape of her lively honey brown eyes. The fullness and curve of her lips. It almost seemed Da Vinci painted her instead, a spitting image they call it. I could not believe my eyes, I was looking at My Mona in the flesh. She smiled like she knew what I was thinking. Her name was Theresa though, and I had one short evening with her. I only paid for 5 hours until she had to leave me in my misery and be with another man. This was her job but she will always be My Mona.
Cassandra Beal Aug 2015
I can hear Braille
I can see Morse
I can taste the stars
And touch the clouds

I can feel the earth shake when
I scream and shout
Thrashing about, when I yell out
The world is too large for me and you
I have no clue what to do

Do I sacrifice all that I've done
Just for us to join and be one?

I'm sorry but now I must go
Out of the world
To save my beloved
It was nice to feel the world
In its entirety

— The End —