The Grass is Black/The Air is Pink


feel me/read me/follow me

How Long?

How long could we talk
before the convo grew dull,
and we started to notice
the attractive people
on the sidelines?
How long could we touch
without leaving permanent marks
or entering each other through the damp, hot skin
by accident?
How long could we sit together
without the tension growing stronger,
our bodies about to explode
from the general, light, sheer contact?
How many poems could I write to you without realizing that I
have’nt sent you one with
actual meaning?
How long could you read to me
before realizing that I was’nt
listening to your voice, but
to your heartbeat instead?

written: November 9, 2009

Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

Filed under: desire,desire,desire..., that crazy,little thing called love, ,

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