like the wind,
it's hard to see
your love;
i know it's there
because i feel it
ever so often.
YOU ARE READING
the ink of my heart | poetry
Poetryshe sits there, naked and exposed to the artist hiding away behind the blank canvas; tears stream down her face while goosebumps trace her skin for she is vulnerable against the world trying to paint her picture perfect to its eye. |unnamed...
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like the wind,
it's hard to see
your love;
i know it's there
because i feel it
ever so often.
