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Author: expiring_touch
ASL Info:    30/f/Hamburg
Elite Ratio:    3.91 - 139 /260 /173
Words: 109
Class/Type: Poetry /Misc
Total Views: 1303
Average Vote:    No vote yet.
Bytes: 827



they make me tremble
from solar plexus till the tips
of fingers, and your lips
on that street corner, panting,
whisper into my memory
never my name -
soft foreign drawl,
round and wetted by that
warm glass of wine.
I should probably stop saying
I miss, and if only,
and the popping of air bubbles
in a freshly brewed
holding fast against the ear
and hear the gentle rumble
of the distant
but then again, the hand
on my neck, growing steady,
I would very much like
to jump from this trampoline
nerve endings –
to the cold
winter sun.

Submitted on 2014-10-31 09:27:40     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
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  The very tail ending grabbed me here. jumping from the trampoline . . . to the cold winter sun. the image of the ups and downs, then the hope of flight. Even the cold winter sun would be better than all the ups and downs. Good on ya!
| Posted on 2014-11-06 00:00:00 | by thepowerglider | [ Reply to This ]
  The thought of such frigid fuck to my crawling hand jokes. I could like to assassinate that dexterity too, touching me against my will. At least as an american I can attempt to bring deadly force to bear, a frosty breeze I that.

| Posted on 2014-11-04 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]

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