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The way his gentle fingertips brush against my skin makes my body feel at home. Most importantly I feel beautiful. I hope you hear this Alisha.
Do you recall when you confessed your love? How you regretted of letting her go? I do, for my heart shattered. No white dove Visited me. My face turned white as snow.
***This was written in 8th grade. Our not-so-bright teacher wanted the class of 13 year olds to write a romantic love poem. I felt left out because I'd never even been in a relationship, must less been in love.
I hate loving you It's not fair I don't want to care Don't make it true I can't stop loving you All I can do is stare My heart wasn't to tear What else can I do I want to be together