May 22, 2014
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We weren't the pragmatic
We were the blurred lines of camera flash
The fuzzy creases
The deleted frames

We were the inbetween
Periods of waiting
Lost periods

We were the unlogged drinks
of tally-marked hands
Struck out

We were the confused flits
The unremembered "I love you,"

We were the blurred vision
The fuzzy touch on my bare back

Because I'd only found you
When I lost myself

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ageofsherloc said...
Mar. 27, 2015 at 11:41 am
I just wanted to say, this is beautiful. Being an amatuer poet myself, I don't consider myself able to give amazing feedback, but I can try. If I'm not mistaken, you say that someone important becomes clear once you forget yourself. This may leave even more of an impact if you were to contrast losing yourself to finding this now clear person. that way, readers will compare and contrast themselves in this situation
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