To be loved

People love for that is why man was made,
a place of unending peace
it has helped my eyes to see the strings tying us all.
I have tasted it and it is a music of pain and a dance of joy.
She had the same color of heart as me
a minuscule of no idea
I learnt how to carve her face from memory and sketched her.
she looked like a Fulani fabric from ancient cotton of beauty.
last I learnt she’s was in Texas.


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