he placed his hands
on my mind
before reaching
for my waist
my hips
or my lips
he didn't call me
beautiful first
he called me
exquisite
I’ve always found the idea of death comforting. The thought that my life could end at any moment frees me to fully appreciate the beauty and art and horror of everything this world has to offer.
Deep inside, she new, who she was, and that person was smart and kind and often even funny, but somehow her pesonality always got lost somewhere between her heart and her mouth, and she found herself saying the wrong thing or, or often, nothing at all.
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