About the Coy in Hues Standard

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She is the Bluest of roses

and truthful to me.

The Vivre to my Axel 

of guttural Joie.

She’s like the sound-wave 

that caresses thought,

Fills me with melodies

and reminds me of dreams forgot.

She’s like the trust I place in composer

to play the hand instead of fold her.

Like a letter I seal,

hoping she not nic me again,

She is more than a cut-away.

She is more than a friend.

She’s the Best.

♩♯ • ♬♭ • ᴀᴄᴛ♮



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