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Jul 2015
The sparks spilled from your eyes,
and I dabbed at your cheeks
with a paisley pocket square.

Your voice was so small
that I had to sit so close;
close enough to smell
your Chanel perfume,
hints of darkness
and complicated beauty.

I watched your eyes
so as not to be lost
in your smile.
Matthew Berkshire
Written by
Matthew Berkshire  Chicago
(Chicago)   
578
   RK
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