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Not Rated |
| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Other >> ID #1135490 |
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He comes and I am taken. His movements are subtle, his hands protecting what I have given him. He smiles and I am lost within moments undecided. I wait for his eyes to change. He speaks and though his words are soft, each is heard as if it were a hundred years long, carrying me throughout lives storms, When he speaks I am eternal.
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