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painted boy
there is a boy, in my poems
i created him with words
rather than a paintbrush.
when i am closing my eyes,
i see his looking back at me,
green eyes;electric green.
i know he has green eyes.
i have never met a boy
with green eyes.
nor have i met a boy
whose touch was so gentle,
whose smile was simultaneously
stunning and soft.
i have never met a boy
who I loved quite so much
as the boy in my poetry.
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