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For if I told you that I love you
Anywhere but my poetry
It would give you the power
To walk away.
So for now I will write
'Til the pen falls from my hand.
Never not loving you
And never not denying it.

- p. winter
Don't change me,
into something I'm not.

It's like treating yesterday
as if I never existed there,
It's like treating past like it
never shaped the person I am today

I am not an unsolved puzzle,
I am not those lights that switches;
I am a sculpture at work.
An endless fusion of hues;
A lip that holds a thousand
secretive clues

It may be a long work before I can be appreciated by many or not,
Or before I could be perfected,
be firm into my shapes,
be sultry in my mixtures.

but this I tell you, you will soon see the best part in absorbing me; above all the
colors life had splashed on me.

An endless rainbow of me.

— The End —