Her name

She loves me. Down, even when I’m depressed she loves me. I met her when I was 10 years old. She had this soul, this funk. There was a way about her that made me say Damn!  Confidence and beauty, I learned about her from other men and women. They loved her too. And she loved them. I learned about her from teachers and books, from other mortals. And they all said Damn! I met her when I was 10 years old, she had this funk, this soul that made me feel like blessings. I’ve known her for 14 years, and she never aged. Never lost her grace or touch. This beauty, this phenomenon. She loves me. Even when I was hospitalized, she never left my side. Her name? Poetry

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