Broken spine

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Being a mellow dramatic teenager again.

Submitted: June 13, 2013

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Submitted: June 13, 2013

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What's puzzling about you,
is not that you make me nautious.
That my heart begins to beat like a war drum mid battle,
or that cheeks blister when looking at your smile.
I understand perfectly when you speak and my ears precieve vocalization,
as music.
I get it that I find my self casting glances,
only to evade when you cast yours.
My weak knees are perfectly familiar when I see a glimpse of light in your eye.
What truly and utterly confounds and eludes me,
is that I like it.
The perfect combination of attraction,
and emotional symmetry.
But as I hide in these shadows,
I cower behind the song of illusions.
Unable to reach towards your hand and feel the blood flow.
To weak hearted to know the touch of art.
Where you're petals blossom in the sun,
my thorns shy me away.
As you walk an Emily Dickonson,
I lie as a dimestore reject with missing pages and a broken spine.
 


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