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Of Unbrushed Hair and He Who Stands in Grandeur</span>
Poetry Heidi Shamurailatpam Poetry Heidi Shamurailatpam

Of Unbrushed Hair and He Who Stands in Grandeur

My sister is winging a sharp eyeliner

She paces frantically back and forth in between —

Brushing her hair, caressing and ironing the black floral wrap dress

The one with the little white peonies engraved on, that she loves so much

She tells me she’s not to put on a lot of blush

Upon enquiring, she says her fiancé doesn’t like it—though she does.

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