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Painted Peonies
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Wednesday, February 8, 2012



Your eyes do not reflect
Nor do your lips seek soft sweet whispers from mine
My hands have never been warmed by yours
My lips stitched tight, though
there are times I wish to cut those seams
To tell you the words
My heart has been trying to hide,
Yet my mind whispers,
"Not yet, not yet."




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