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230204
Contributed by
lapse
on
Thursday, 26th February 2004 @ 09:04:18 AM in AEST
Topic:
oops
|
Her brown curls leave whip kisses
stinging across my back...and my love
She presses my hand to her breast
and then to the cuts
Her eyes like salt
and warm breath,
drawn out death. I miss you.
Tied by my fingers and toes to the grass
warm, gentle sun
across his hands
his hands across hers
and my heart
in acid.
Do i really miss her.
or only the way she made me feel
Copyright ©
lapse
... [
2004-02-26 09:04:18] (Date/Time posted on
site)
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Re: 230204
(User Rating: 1 ) by kailadragon on
Wednesday, 10th March 2004 @ 03:56:05 PM AEST (User
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a Message)
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nice poem, I loved the feel of the "warm, gentle sun" across my face...good write |
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Re: 230204
(User Rating: 1 ) by PRECIOUSBECKY on
Friday, 12th March 2004 @ 02:25:23 PM AEST (User
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a Message)
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IT IS SOMETIMES HARD TO DETERMINE THE DIFFERENCE IN MISSING SOMEONE AND JUST BEING USED TO HAVING THEM AROUND. GOOD WRITING I THINK I WILL ENJOY ALL OF YOUR WORKS |
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