The Grass is Black/The Air is Pink

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feel me/read me/follow me

An Attempt at Rebellion

I wonder if I should just cry
when he touches me, making my body shake,
thinking about the fallen rose petals
underneath my window

Emotions tangled like spaghetti on a plate
I don’t know about him, where his Love for me ends, where my Love for him begins

I wonder if the poem that I wrote
after meeting him, was actually
about him…
His lips on my skin, I close my eyes
His hand on my thigh, I let him come in
to my life

written: June 14, 2011

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

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