'fear' 'love' 'heartbreak' love poem peace
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But what am I focusing on?
I am only here for a short amount of time; then I am gone…
Gone with the wind, wrestling the trees, making crisp air for us to breath.
When my heart cries, I tend to stain pretty paper with blotches of ink....
I reacquaint my pen
with the lines of my paper,
like old lovers,