Why is it that
the meaning of beauty
is sometimes
buried
within the depths
of a dry well
in the middle of
an unpopulated desert?
—
Is it because
love,
friends,
and her,
are a complete work
of a universe that operates
to the absence of
physics,
math,
and her beautiful scent
that she wears when
going to a birthday party
she hates going to?
—
Or
Maybe
I will just never know
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