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Mar 2016
Whenever I steal a glance at you
No matter how fleeting the image is in my memory
The photographer in me comes to life, trying
Trying to note the focal point of your body
The light source
Shadows, colors, position
The artist in me turns on, and
I secretly trace the outline of your shoulders
I recreate every single strand of your hair
On invisible paper
The poet in me struggles to the surface, attempting
Attempting to describe the texture of the skin
I never touched, the lips I haven't kissed
Wanting to put into words feelings I can't even fathom
All the while, the student in me desperately tries
Not to let the inevitable sigh escape from my lips
In the middle of class
Whenever I steal a glance at you
I don't even know who I wrote this about anymore. Saying I'm confused is an understatement. Good thing is, I've been in a very happy mood recently.
The Emerald Outcast
Written by
The Emerald Outcast
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