Birthday Parties

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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