Some days I feel,
minuscule almost,
diminutive certainly.
If not for you
I think I’d fade
like weak, old, jeans.
Just a speck on the horizon,
the vanishing point
in an artists eye.
Some days I feel,
minuscule almost,
diminutive certainly.
If not for you
I think I’d fade
like weak, old, jeans.
Just a speck on the horizon,
the vanishing point
in an artists eye.
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