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From a Distance



        I watch from a distance, as you talk to him.  You stand in all your regal splendor, and attempt to get him to open up to you.  He speaks little, and after a whil you gibe up, and stand there, a look of helf-pain, half embarrasment stuck on your face.

            Even looking like this, or maybe because you look like this, you are beautiful.  Your dark brown hair hangs to your shoulders, gleaming a little in the afternoon sun.

            As you standthere he begins to drift away.  The look intensifies on your face, and I can almost hear you heart crack a little more with each steps he takes.

            Then you are alone, and your face falls, taking with it the reamins of your heart.  From my distant stance I can just about see the pieces hit the floor.

            Watching that happen, my own heart breaks.  How anyone could dismiss such a beauty as you, without even a second glance back, I donít know.

            If only I thought that I had a chance.  I would to to you, pick up the pieces, put them back together, and give you back your heart.

            I would try to make you happy, to give you the attetion you deserve.   But you have eyes for him, not I.  So I act as mediator, never acting on my behalf, just as I always have, and I watch from a distance.


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