poetry

Paper Tiger

There is a beauty
Of words
That evades me.
Leaves me longing,
Grasping ineffectually
For
The
Right
One.
I feel their potential,
Scrabbling
In the back
Of my mind.
Yet the harder I reach
The further they recede.
I know
They are bright stars
In a night of gloom,
But they refuse
To share
Their light
With me.

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