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Eyes

His eyes was the first thing I gazed on.
They were crystal blue, included by a miner's body.
Muscular, tan, and a rock hard chest, my liking.
But the thing that made him the North Pole to my south pole was the eyes.
He was sensitive to pain, I could tell.
He cried at the pain.
I wish he did less of this.
I hate soggy eyes.
They taste too salty to me.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/profile/notebook/dwb252