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he looked at her like

she was the sun,

in that he never
looked at her

except in frustration.

he basked in her
warmth,

he complained when
she was gone,

but he never looked.

on days she was muted,
he complained.

on days she was
stronger,

he
hid from her.

he never looked at her

until she was leaving,

and in the beauty of the sunset

he wondered
how

he'd never

seen her

before.

𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦Where stories live. Discover now