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Alexis 7d
all these poems I write
start with I,
I swear I’m not self centered
but they say write what you know.
So in a desperate attempt
to learn this soul of mine
All I write about
is me.
And you,
Yes, I write about you.
I write about the beauty of you.
Of how I would love to leave fingerprints on your heart and caress your soul .
I mean if you would allow me
To love you
Luna Maria Jun 30
I don't want
to wash your
I don't want the memories to fade.
Florence Jun 26
Do I spin on this wheel of fortune forever? Offering slices of my heart like a bake sale. Or should I look at you with glass eyes? The world is full of dormant men who love the emptiness of women.  A vacant place behind her eyes that says I’m no longer here. I had to pack and retreat long ago because I’m too scared. I’m scared of you. I’m scared your hands are too rough to reach into my chest. Your hands are fickle. No fingerprints. I’d say I miss you but a man without fingerprints can’t leave a mark.
You left fingerprints
In my heart.
A poem every day.
Finally, at last.
I thought you'd never leave my mind.
But today, for the first time in 142 days.
I didn't woke up,
Thinking about you.
Surprisingly, I never thought this was love.
Just a stupid remedy,
For a self broken heart.
But dispite the fact I'm not thinking about you.
You still left your fingerprints on my skin.
And your voice in my ears.

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I'm writing a small poem every day, about how I feel or the world around me. This is #4
i scrub and i scrub and i scrub
but nothing can erase the fingerprints you have left on me
because they are imprinted in my memories
and i can still picture where your fingers have been
The past
is in the past.
That's true.
it leaves
on the future.
Katlyn Orthman Aug 2018
Beginnings and endings
Marked by unique tombstones
Each a fingerprint
Of great creators
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