Stop dribbling those basketballs on my pavement, my stomach's fluttering! Gosh!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
Love for someone so deep, that every face and sound recalls their shadow; traces of their music playing, how they sat playing resounding from the inside of you. Everything you do is them and your belonging to them, maybe. And when that basketball they love with a passion is pounding on the concrete, like your heartbeat of the not so, but so hilarious and weird moments of love you don't want to be reminded of, your love becomes too many commas and one run-on sentence with no period.

Submitted: February 20, 2014

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Submitted: February 20, 2014

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Be careful who you love,
they might appear in your dreams,
at every corner you bend,
and every song you sing, you write,
you play their melody,
close your eyes they're playing,
and when a basketball dribbles,
pounding the concrete,
it's like the piano keys,
that remind you of whom,
of whom you're singing

 

~always L.


© Copyright 2017 Lyn Nita. All rights reserved.

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