Tue, 08/02/2016 - 12:21 -- IsaPV

The way her lips curved up.

In that moment, I knew I'd spend the rest of my life trying to describe it. 

Poetry isn't about inspiration; it's....

bringing back the way her eyes shine


trying to remember how her lips taste

the way she laughed, like tinkling bells,

or the way her fingertips traced patterns on my skin.

Poetry is the way you can allow your soul to speak. 

This poem is about: 


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