For you wore my green eyes, black,
back, into pupils, they slid,
to nestle among the twig-like appendages,
of these bloodied, crying eyes.
See, you make me feel like I am alive;
Living, instead of just, floating, existing,
around ‘here’ and ‘them’.
And what purpose do I serve, without you?
Smiling at me, as we pass each other ..
I hope you always think I’m pretty,
even with my hair up and skirt down ;
Being without you is awful,
despite the want,
for other places to go,
for other people to meet;
I just I hope I never miss you,
even when you’re around.
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