ImperfectionsA Poem by EmilyThis one is pretty self-explanatory.
It was her wrists.
They were beautiful. They were like a porcelain doll's. But they were cracked, broken. Imperfect. And then there was his wrists. They were clean. They were perfect. They were a symbol of what she wanted to be. Imperfect but eternally happy. <3
© 2013 EmilyAuthor's Note
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5 Reviews Added on December 1, 2013 Last Updated on December 1, 2013 |

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