In an uncomfortable chair
scanning piles of poems,
across from perfection...
I am reading her, again
and I can't put her away.
She is undefineable.
Stealing a glance
from my reading
I catch her smiling.
Their words are worthless now.
maybe masterpieces, erased
from staring through her.
Beautiful is cliche.
Her eyes sparkle...
Does she notice, I wonder?
I care
and she is happy.
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