books reading inspiration poetry

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Singing so loud my lips are red   He’s kissing me so hard it’s almost pretend Too bad it’s all in my head   Reading the same pages,
Books are just dreams wrote down and shared with the world.
Within the turn of a page, I’m transported to 1920’s New Orleans.   Soft pastel ribbons that adorn the corn silk curls of the girls passing by catch my eye as I inhale the thick scent of burning cigars.  
There's a romanticism to sitting down in a bookstore with a yet unpaid for book in hand Seeking out the coziest corner where your Momma won't find you  Not for want of searching or yelled whispers
                                 When I was a young girl naive and new to the world                    I was shy and did not understand the beauty of being naive and young.
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