Poem Number Six

I'm sitting hereStaring at walls and Scribbling at thoughts. This is when I imagine you, and Your unique, soft kiss that twists and turns My thoughts and causes my doodlesTo turn pink and red, Little spots taking over my mind, That conforms in your hands.  You're my mismatched socks,My left eye, My pen and paper which I write to you on,The sweet nothings and kisses I leave on you. These are the thoughts I scribble,While I stare at the wall andSit in my desk.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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