The Grass is Black/The Air is Pink

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feel me/read me/follow me

Midsummer. Sex. Despair.

cookies crumbled into a pile of sugar
on the table; the tablecloth is a
busy, patchwork print; hypnotic to
stare at
music plays, maybe it’s even a
beautiful song… people come out
of the woodwork, and they dance;
I close my eyes and allow them…
is there someone who exists on
earth, who can make everything
okay? so that I can finally breathe again,
dream and finally admit that ‘ I love you’…
my body is such a coward, she
betrays me; I’m sold to the lightest
touch, the softest and sweetest kiss
makes me drip like an ice cube in
the sun until there’s not a piece of
me left…

written: July 20, 2011

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

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