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you’re so picturesque / you could prolong / the moon.
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white lies—
enough for a snowfall
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you rock away
my moon pain skin cry
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I wear a tablecloth skirt
with lace that twirls in a full circle when I think of you,
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short poem. Kind of Christmasy.
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There are trees in my lungs,
whole orchards dusky in my mouth
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Sweetheart, I’m learning that light
Was somehow connected to God,
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diaphragms
pushing fires out of mouths
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somewhere in the dark
he wavered to my pleas.
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stream of consciousness poem thing.
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you stretch me and I scream.
I have no excess with which to receive you
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because it was night time and I was cold
and a lady:
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When we were gods we never worried about
loving our women– if we did, they were blessed:
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this is anne empersonating ruth and doing quite a poor job of it. but it's odd and at least vaguely amusing.
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homemade helter-skelter honeymoon
hunky-dorky dumb/founded-in-our-hearts/a
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these eyes mine /legs/ enveloped arms-pressed together and sealed/
not as simple as a kiss/
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you/ with me/ so-close-
I-wish-I-could-describe-it/
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Yesterday I told myself I would stop loving you so much,
I mean, stop loving your body so much
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I’m going off to discover my future and
I’ll find out, I guess, if you’re a part of it.
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\everything is happening as it should:
the lover is annihilated by the beloved,\
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midnight came:
another year begun without a kiss,
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in a parking lot
that smells of deep fried sweets
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a goose lies dead
on the December sand
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without thinking
I often invade your personal space,
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I don’t know how it became this way,
when it was my hands first became reckless,
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it’s all or nothing
can’t have love if you don’t have life
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sweet-sliced temptation
rests on a lace tablecloth
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in the presence of such an acidic boy,
like blue litmus she blushed red –
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please write me a poem
escríbame por favor un poema
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