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Small Town, Big Eyes
The world turns a dusty shade of indigo.
Peach lipstick smiles and damp car windows pull us miles closer.
"The sky was painted just for us,"
I want to tell him.
But truth be told, I don't even know the artist's name.
Maybe the inky landscape has always been here; viewed countess times by many such as ourselves.
The infinite dreamers who feel entitled to its beauty.
But I know the truth,
and I have a feeling he does too.
The world is not mine and mine alone.
It belongs to you and I and everyone between.
So as we gaze into the galaxy around us,
It somewhat comforts me to know that we are not alone.
cold nights can cause the warmest feelings
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