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The Book Store
November 16, 2021
Warm honey drips off the ivory temple like an overflowing cup of consciousness,
Her spine was stronger than any type of book could possibly carry,
Her hair was as ambiguous as the unknowing women in the book store,
eyes were hidden yet legs were bare,
Her hills of scars layered in sweet perfume covering what once was,
A story with a twist, love with an unmet kiss,
So beautiful yet tragic.
© Ainsley L.
Waterford, MI
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This poem represents a self-love relationship with myself.