Her

With brown eyes she commands me, they’re vessels deep into her soul. They help me hold the truth and see, she would, if only, make me whole. Though my words are great and more, I am unable to devote her gratitude. With wholesome love only beauty I saw, her body bares no hokum platitude. My heart a fluttering dove, gliding away and clutching red roses. A withered arm offering love, but unrequited means my heart loses. Your eyes are gems of the rarest sort until my final days, my heartstrings be wrought.

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