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May 2019
I feel an awful lot like I’m a rough draft, a
work in the making
Left upon his mahogany desk
far away
There’s a polished-up version of me, somewhere—
Somewhere awfully far away.
The crisp edges of her unrumpled surface
are dancing, as
eyes devour her every word.
Written by
dandelionfine  F
(F)   
142
 
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