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 Oct 2013 Laurel Elizabeth
August
I'm helpless to a man with light in his eyes
And a hop to his step with a glimmering smile
Who is good with his words but better with his skin
Making contact as letters fall off his lips

Before I've seen them passing in the street
But never being drawn to me
In hush posh libraries and little coffee shops
Yet someone so bright usually doesn't notice something so lost

Because in reality, I'm an awkward little lady
Full of doubt, depth, and charcoaled sadly shady
I don't know much on how to touch, not well
Someone to teach me how each letter fell

But I won't say a word, not even one
The longing in my eyes should be enough
Pushing the brims of my lonely self to it's extent
Aside everyone as they twirl and mix and vent

Yearning for some light,
I know for certain so,
If I met a man like that,
Surely I would go.
Amara Pendergraft 2013

— The End —