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The Minute Shadow
I was obsolete, invisible, a shadow.
I am a minute reality.
He was a someone, a something, a light.
And I loved him.
He was perfect.
His smile was like a beacon in the darkness of what was the world.
And I was a ship on the sea.
I'd see him in English, in choir, in the hall, on the bus, everywhere.
It was like a slow form of torture, being so close, and yet feeling so far.
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I wrote this with the intent of a book opener, instead it became a poem.