Anesidora
Roughly as poetic as a bag of smashed arseholes.
Scribble back.
Friday, 5 November 2010
12. All
All we ever wanted was to feel, that happy evening-kiss
That last touch and caress of lips before sleep enfolds the few
And I watch – always watching, rarely speaking – as you breathe me in
That hollow in my neck where you sometimes rest your chin
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