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Inspiration

feeding on the tips of my fingers.

insipid

patterns weaving throughout my lungs.

perhaps it\'s the way you held me,

or how you said you\'d never let me go.

esoteric

thoughts [audacious as their own]

refuse to ignore this bliss.

Seconds are consumed by laughter;

[perhaps] you\'re the only one that keeps me smiling.

With you beside me,

The world remains at my toes.