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196 · Jul 2016
untitled no. 1
cori Jul 2016
her eyes were just brown,
but the kind of brown that
turned golden with sunshine.
carrying bags from countless
sleepless nights. ringed in
red from unshed tears.
never stayed in one place,
flitting around like butterflies.
you could never get used
to her eyes. they were
something you could look
at for days, memorizing every
inch.

— The End —