She’s got her hand in my pocket while she picks my brain.
She’s holding onto me for reasons she can’t explain.
I don’t know what it is, but I kind of like it.
She tells me to leave, but her hold asks me to stay.
She speaks her mind,
But when I do, she doesn’t know what to say.
She is comfortable in her own skin.
She comes alive when I am with her.
She peeks my curiosity.
She is something else.
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