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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
This poem is about love, simply enough. It's about the sensualism of romantic love, and the way things are so difficult yet so easy. Love can often be a paradox, and the most difficult emotion to fathom, but in the end it's a dream come true.

Submitted: March 15, 2007

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Submitted: March 15, 2007




and soon enough, you're
grasped in a satin handkerchief;
and soon enough,
you're like a perpetual flower.

Baby, I love you.
(jilting screams and untiring melodies
won't drown that out)

when our fights are smothered in dust
will I still remember
ringed fingers and lip balmed smiles

you paint me blue:
smoke rings of colour dance across my
shadows; and you've
painted the fire

oh, I'm a bad, bad girl
writing her life story
on sheets of toilet paper -
a day
when the sky will

tropicana juice cartons litter my thoughts
and you have spun me around
so that I've become
your ultimate high.
/only you would know
just how much
ecclesiastical ideas
have consumed me\

I promise
(tracing my finger
over the charcoal hearts
I've smeared on your chest)
to be a sensation
and plant sparkle on your cheeks
until little sparkle trees grow
dropping little sparkly leaves
on sparkly grass.

I can feel
this age-old temptation
I can sense the fear
and hesitation
of the day when it's just realised
it must die.
jarring against the music of watercolour
[below oil]
I dance on blunt knives
closing my eyes
purpling the ginger islands
of my thoughts.

and soon enough
you've slid your fingers down my arm
and up my thighs;

shredded me into pink rose petals
loved the paraffin wax I've sunk in
pulled me out and dragged me away
sucked the venom out of me
rendered me raw
and pleading...

my breasts are plump now.
 - spilling forth the milk ideas are made of
your tongue's teasing caresses electrify -

you then

tell me

to jump backwards

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