March 23, 2009
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She's a ticking bomb,
waiting to blow.
And she's been waiting to live,
holding back until tonight.
I have never seen anything so beautiful,
as she rolls down the window and screams out to the song playing on the radio.
Her auburn hair a mess and curling,
bending to the lash of humidity sweeping through the car.
But she's not bending over backwards for anyone tonight.
I can barely keep my eyes on the road and off of her.
One small tear strolls down her cheek
and I know she's feeling the hurt,
letting it soak in.
Half way out the window with her heart out on her sleeve for the world to see
and she's free.
I have yet to let go
and find the courage to sing along with her.

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