Mystique
Mystique  poetry stories
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amazingmirror
amazingmirror |Lesbian|Demigirl|She/They/Fae|♋️|
Autoplay OFF   •   3 months ago
Mystique - A poem about remembrance.

Mystique

Mystique is what I feel in my hands.

Mystique is what I feel in my hands. It moves around and starts to dance.

Mystique is what I feel in my hands. It moves around and starts to dance. The music playing around

Mystique is what I feel in my hands. It moves around and starts to dance. The music playing around is all I can hear in this wonderful town.

The sensation is perfect,

The sensation is perfect, Not a single imperfection.

The sensation is perfect, Not a single imperfection. It makes me sing and dance

The sensation is perfect, Not a single imperfection. It makes me sing and dance for a little more than awhile.

The mystique comes back to me,

The mystique comes back to me, Even when I’m scared.

The mystique comes back to me, Even when I’m scared. The sacrifices it makes

The mystique comes back to me, Even when I’m scared. The sacrifices it makes are always there to stay.

I paint the walls,

I paint the walls, With my tears.

I paint the walls, With my tears. When I remember you’re gone,

I paint the walls, With my tears. When I remember you’re gone, I realize

I paint the walls, With my tears. When I remember you’re gone, I realize, That you were the mystique all along.

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