without a sound
memories
il faut que je sois
vision
trivial; essential
perfection
I, the Photograph
 
 

perfection

I like her lips (he tells himself)
Beautiful, as they curl upward with every smile.

I like her eyes (he tells himself)
Sparkling, with every word she says.

I don't like her nose (he tells himself)
Awkward, how it is positioned on the face.

(he does not want to fall in love)

 
   
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