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May 17
you know:
when you give me that look
over the buttons on your instrument—
a brass whatever-you-call-it—
where your eyes are bugging out
and your lips are pursed inward
like you’re some sort of frog
and your face holds the purple tinge
from a lack of air,
you look ridiculous.
i always make sure to tell you.

you don’t know:
when you give me that look
after you finish losing your mind
over one of my terrible jokes
where your eyes are shining
with something i can’t quite place
and your lips are pulled back
in a smile—that smile—
and your face holds the purple tinge
from a lack of restrained emotion,
you look remarkable.
i always make sure not to tell you.
to something new, but a long time coming.
Written by
tacet  F
(F)   
23
   BR Dragos
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