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past
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i get caught in smiles, in kind words, in thoughtful gestures. her eyes mimic the dance of the gods, unaware of their seductive beauty. when traps are laid unaware, the spring is so much faster. it pulls up and send one flying, wishing that the friction of the air could slow his acceleration, and for the trampled field to break his looming fall. but within the smiles, words, and gestures and without the ruinous purposeful seduction hold the seed of a more lasting friendship, one that will bloom after civilization's fires burn themselves out.
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