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What Makes Her Mine
Her eyes
They are like the moon rising on it's dark harvest
The ocean waves crashing on the sublimes shore
The way the earth turns at the slightest wind
Her eyes
Her lips
They are like crimson cherry colored particles of youth
Dandelion seeds blown from a soft stem
Lined fur in the tigers skin
Her lips
Her hands
They are like delicate china frames made of breakable glass
Motional words without voices
Uncharted land of dwindling seas being taken away by the sun
Her hands
Her heart
It is like the tic tock of the grandfather clock
The underestimated talons of the baby hawk
The armor upon the solider
The beating flutter of the sparrows wings
Her heart
She
She is like the heart beating in it's last moments
The grenade pin nervously awaiting detachment from it's shelter
The leaf fluttering from the tree until it hits the ground
The love which I long for in this maleficent turning ball we call home
She
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The piece was originally written for someone, but I never told her. My heart aches for her love! I hope she will read this and understand.