Wednesday, June 8, 2011

The Trap

"Baby, what's wrong?"
asked the softest eyes I've ever seen,
glazed across with blurring worry,
in their blueish, brightest green

But you always refuse to believe
that there's anything wrong inside of me--
For some wrong reason,
you believe in me.

Hot breath and hotter skin,
whispers in the push and pull
While arching backs let heavy breathing
escape our lips, while moving slow

Convulsions in nerves
I never knew I had,
'til my fingers and palms
had tingled numb--

Now I close my eyes
and remember how
we put the world in slow motion
for a little while

And I'm so afraid, and I don't know why,
but I'm still here, aren't I?



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We're done now, but I wrote this for you when it still mattered. If it ever mattered.

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