poetry critical

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as he watched her nestle into her pillow, into her sleep,
he would hear the light taps of her bobby pins sliding out of her neatly styled hair; each one falling behind the bed.
before he took her pictures down or moved her drawings into a folder,
he went under his bed and threw her hair pins away.

28 Jan 07

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i think this would make a great chorus for a song, its very simple and i like it
 — crismonblue

feels prosey, but I like it
 — sadie

this is so sad. thanks for depressing me. i like your style
 — Trish77