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Beauty
Sometimes I like to pretend that I am beautiful. Sometimes I don’t have to pretend. I’m not beautiful with soft curls and red lips that have never tasted a shade of pale. I’m not beautiful like good genes (jeans) and curves like the arcs of circles. I’m pretty like the smell of rain on pink and white roses in May. I’m beautiful like the stars at night and breathtaking like photography that leaves imprints on your heart. I’m stunning like the first time you realized that you could love me. I’m more beautiful than ever now that you have.

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