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⠀                         ⠀ ⠀ ོ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ོ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀
⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀                 ⠀ ོ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ོ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀                  ⠀                   ⠀ ོ ⠀ ⠀              ⠀ ོ

⠀                         ⠀ ⠀ ོ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ོ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀  ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀                 ⠀ ོ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ོ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀                  ⠀                   ⠀ ོ ⠀ ⠀              ⠀ ོ

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you were too pure
to be called a distraction.
my mind often left me
when you were around
but i found myself
blaming it on my lack
of focus.

as you stood there,
surrounded by the crowd,
i set my focus on
impressing you.

i colored the sky i
saw in your vivid
eyes. they told a
story i could only
hope to mirror in
my complementary
paintings.

if only you knew
the paintings you
fawned over were
my perception of
your artistry and
grace.

if only you could see
yourself the way i
see you.

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