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A kiss pressed,
While I was engrossed deeply
So in a book,
On my forehead,
Like fleeting warmth
That leaves its mark
On my heart as it
Sinks slowly into my skin
And disappears entirely on
The surface and
Yet brands me from deep within.
What a sneaky move it is.
For I cannot erase it entirely
From my being
And the curvature of my smile.
— S.R.B
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