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They say our thoughts are better off on paper, but I can’t write any pairing of words t hat are equal to you. There is no picture that can capture your essence; no clay that could mold to your shape, no etching can come close to fetching.... because you are a masterpiece. I observe you, as if I am walking through a museum, the Museum of You, and there you stand in-between the Mona Lisa, and Michelangelo's David. As others walk by, they look at you, enjoying the view, while I breathe you in, hoping to be noticed while hiding within myself. You look over to catch me glaring, but I break away and my bravery catches up to my insecurities and they run off, leaving me standing there in an awkward stare down with a less significant piece. Hoping you notice me, but not wanting you to see me. I just want you to know, know that I am here, that I exist. I look back at you to see you have gone back to holding your pose, and I go back to admiring you. One day I will remember to bring my courage, but for now I will continue to breathe you from over here, where you can’t see me. As I watch others get close to you, I pray they don't touch you, or rub you, or smudge you. I always say that t they don’t know your value, they don't know how to treat a masterpiece. But... neither do I, because you still have no idea that I am your biggest fan. You still have no idea how good I can be to you. Your creator must be close to god, because in my mind you are almost a splitting image. When I close my eyes you are there, reaching for me, and I reach back for you. When we embrace, its like the time of the day when the sun and moon meet between rising and setting, and blow each other a kiss while the sky is lit with the most potent and passionate hues of purple, pink, and orange, radiating warmth over our union. Yea its like that. Then I open my eyes to find myself outside in line at the Museum of You, waiting to sign the your the rest of the fans.....Maybe tomorrow will be more like my dreams....maybe......

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