Fingertips
Slight and soft,
Feels like tiny, tiptoeing ballerinas,
Dancing on my palm.
And every time you squeeze
I have to close my eyes
And remember how real you are.
How you walked right past
And never looked back.
And I know
I'm just a link in your chain
But I can't help
Pretending.
Angel
I couldn't quite tell
As I looked across the room.
She blurred the line between reality
And something much more fantastic.
Her eyes sparkled like the sea
On a summer day,
As mesmerizing and mysterious
As a morning fog.
I almost expected wings
To sprout from her shoulder blades
So angel-like and perfect
It was only a matter of time before she flew.
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