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Tom Pearson May 2014
She had the kind of face
that could swallow
your hope
like a fly,
sinking in an olympic sized swimming
pool

You'd never have her,
she'd never want you

Her eyes
two blue lakes
you could submerge in,
drown in,
wishing to never sea them stream

Black painted arcs
curved,
framing,
They could make
Mona Lisa frown
green with envy

Beauty etched
so deep, so true
time itself
could never
erase

— The End —