to look at, to wonder at

I am the flower in the mirror,
the moon on the surface of water

I am the shadow behind you,
the Mona Lisa

I am a mirage,
the beautiful dreams that are unattainable

I am the sun setting or rising,
the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel

I am the beauty that you can only see,
but can’t touch

I am the beauty that you can only feel,
but can’t touch

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“Don’t burn all your bridges down,” he warns her. “You won’t have anyone left to turn to.”

“I’ll still have you, won’t I?” Her words slurred with pain or too much beer, he doesn’t know. “You always come running back even when I make your life miserable.

You can’t stay away from me.”

He wished he could tell her she was wrong.